seeing you again

i was in brussels this weekend, after a rather extended gmail conversation about how, with both of us on the continent, we might manage to see one another. after nine years. nine, the number on your house.

the things i remember about you. the way you walk, with your feet pointed out. you singing, in the kitchen. how you plan, grandiose, rapid, up-in-the-air.

and have you changed? it was more comfortable to speak english with you, because your spanish is different. a lot different. but your mannerisms, your terms of engagement, these are all the same, if not intensified.

i wasn't nervous about seeing you, and i didn't have many expectations about what you would be like now, a mobile IT worker in a european capital. i thought perhaps a bit more yuppie, put together, the way i remembered you from d.f. but you unravel at the edges.

you said i was the same, and maybe so. i guess i can't remember.