The tape floated down with the breeze from the eighth story balcony, ebbing then flowing, gusting up then floating down again. This was the most exhilarated it had ever felt, free like a bird.
Eventually it snagged in a tree where it sat, it’s ends and loops fluttering. This was living.
A man with no name pushed a shopping trolley in the street below, he had fingerless gloves and had not showered in a long while. He stopped to pick something up.
‘Trudy and John’s wedding – 14 February 1984’.
The old man put the empty cassette into his trolley and continued on his way. The tape in the tree fluttered in the breeze.