My shadow is Peter Pan, she grows not old like those that are flesh grow old. She flits, she darts and dances, she is forever unlined, untouched by the years that seem to pass now on fast forward. I watched her closely as I walked to meet my love on a blue-sky day, she had such a spring in her step. Later, on the beach under the bright spirit-sun, I saw our 15 year old selves clasping hands in the shadow-world. Unencumbered by past, and carefree in the present, their lips touched, and I glimpsed it, as I sideways-spied on our shadows. And I saw joy, pure fucking joy.