who i am is

miloš strolled past the docked boats, winking at me over his shoulder like a white, spotted terrier with one ear missing. i waved at him and went back into the bookstore so as not to watch him disappearing around the corner. cobblestones and old men on native bicycles- red ones- clattered around me, the traffic and physical narrative of the town. the red roofs and sparrows scavenging around cast-iron chairs; i was not alone and i was not unhappy. but there was one yellow flower whose name i couldn't pronounce that miloš had conjured for me and i was cross at him for leaving me.

when i was walking on the bridge, earlier that day, he had seen me from across the square, and shouted "dive!" to indicate he was calling. i laughed at him, and climbed up on the railing as if to obey, so that he got nervous and ran over to me and pulled me down.

we spent the morning walking, stopping whenever we pleased, and talking. well, that is, he talked mostly, of things that mattered to him, and i listened in scraps. "and you will know it is right because the colours and the smells will be like cinema or funeral," he said, moving his hands like swingsets in the air, obliterating gestures. his face creased into a smile when he saw i wasn't listening. "this might not make sense to you, but it is really important." he erased my worries with hurried motions of his hands. the buttons of his mud-brown cardigan sat low on his chest, over a cherry-coloured shirt, and there were little pills of wool all over his back. his voice blended in with the sound and fury of the street around us and i examined the stubbly hairs drawing two points down the back of his neck, the fraying at the back of his jeans, our shadows moving carelessly down the sidewalk.

a bit later, when i was listening again: "mastering these motions, however, takes years of practice." he twisted his hands through the air, my own amateur magician, pulling little silver kuna from under my hair, a bouquet of yellow flowers which disappeared into a flutter of confetti. "oh," i said, "but those were so pretty." "yes," he said. "but nice things disappear too. like this morning." and he said, "i have to go now." and i didn't mind too much, but then he said, "ne nestati; volim te," and disappeared like a magic flower without translating.

if he comes back i will not be so quick to be saved from the bridge.