as she walked on that cold day, the metaphor became fact

it was a cold day. no doubt.
she walked, as usual, in a very particular and specific way, analogous to the way she speaks [the way he thinks he listens as she speaks]... it was almost as if her speech became action, gesture.

a reverie, no doubt. her wind vane dialoguing with an aeolian energy generator which rested some miles away, them both involved on a speechless conversation that could go on for hours if it wasn't for the fact that, suddenly, she felt cold. and remembered... les memoires, c'est ça.

a day; some days ago.