Date: May 2000
Time: 9 p.m.

I fondly remember walking on paths behind my home, with only a half-moon to guide me. I had just exchanged a handful of sentences with a Roman Catholic stranger. She was of the few recognisable faces in my neighbourhood. And there was not much to say. It left me wondering for years whether it was me or my luck that caused that awkward standstill (not to mention her unexpected move to Luxembourg).

Memory, whatever it is, is an odd thing.