I think we get to know people after a certain period of time. That time for me has always coincided with them going away or slipping by for whatever reason. In fact only every now and then do I get a glimpse into what exactly they did, meant. Her eye movements, her voice, the dialogue. It’s like a painful trickling of enlightenment. That, through time, grows into a kind of acceptance. Acceptance of regret. It’s a buzzing you hear all day, that if you could ever transpose or transcribe, it would be saying “That was her, that was her, that was her. And she’s gone”.