As peculiar as this may sound, I am quite fascinated with my own shadow though vanity is not my motive. I have, since childhood, convinced myself that my shadow is an ill fit of me. She tends to warp and fizzle in a manner which I certainly don’t.
In our cave room in Matera, Hiro caught her impersonating a corseted Victorian lady……absolutely nothing like me. Such absurd behaviour!
I am not sure if an old bird like me ought to be flashing abdominal flesh. However, such frivolity is always more acceptable when on holiday. I paired the black cropped top with a high-waisted pleated skirt and a pair of gold sandals,practicality for toddling over ancient cobbles.
“the mind is lost when the shadow dies.” Harurki Murakami from Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of The World