How many times have I walked this path?
The river glistening in the sunlight smells like it did back then, and the noise of the city and the screeching of the seagulls arch over the lazily moving surface into the clear blue sky.
The water meanders blue and green under the arch of the bridge and becomes dark like the abyss of my memory in the deep shadow.
The past years blur and merge with the steadily flowing water and the never ending dull roar of the city into the great river of time.

What has changed?
The wrinkles on my face have deepened and are starting to freeze into the mask of an old man.
Life leads to death.
I have to choose.​​​​​​​

© Fredi Hüberli

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