A crooked shadow moves along the brick wall of my mother's house. The letterbox creaks and an envelope lies upon the doormat He has been a widower for a long time. They usually bump into each other when she goes out with the dog. Her kitchen table is covered with his houseplants. Are they going to travel? The address of an apartment is scribbled on a piece of paper. A few days later I decide to follow them. She looks like a little girl, he walks with big steps. They seem to be transformed and move freely through the other city.