Walking forward, the low, winter sun blinds us, like the unseen future.
“Too sunny,” says a little voice.
So, we look down where we stand. This is the present. But it’s hard to stay still.
Looking back, is much easier. Our shadows stretch, tall and slim, along the pavement; mighty effigies in memory. That’s the past, defined, but dark and distorted.
“There’s bear’s shadow,” says the little boy, about to walk into a lamppost.
“Look where you’re going,” says mum, concentrating on the moment, even though she can’t see beyond her own feet. “Bear’s shadow will follow us, don’t worry.”