My hand loses it’s grip, and the string falls onto the concrete pavement

I remember a colourful mosaic floor of a restaurant in Sardinia

and a carved carrot that looks like a flower in Thailand

and being told to wipe with old newspaper to avoid smears when cleaning windows

and the moon is not the same way up in both hemispheres

suddenly the stranger is here again, “I told you not to let go of it” he whispers.