Ah he left. Remnants of our little past flit my way and lodge themselves as a lump in my throat. I was forced to turn mute as he left, with my footsteps taking me to arms of another. I have not been able to not think about him, and I wonder had I say yes, had I been brave enough, could he be my midas, and I, his? As we bid our half-hearted farewell it felt incomplete. Like that very night, we smoked under the dancing light, in the rhythm of thumps, hums and off-beat harmony. We shared memories, dreamed of future adventures, and wandered in and out of blissful delirium. In that instance I wanted to tell him that I wanted him, but that lump in my throat turned me mute. Do I turn this friendship into something more? Will it elevate, or will we sink? Ah well, he left for the east, and I, will be, to the west. My heart follows him, in little steps. Perhaps one day I shall see him, in a African summer, in a Peruvian village, in a Nepalese hike, and back to the land of tiger where it begins.