His hands trace every fold, wrinkle and crease remembering what was. Yet his dim eyes remember and smile at the wife of his youth is still there as she takes his hand and guides him along bustling sidewalks and across the busy streets.
Grays, Blues, and Greens now blurs. A well placed tap on his Bowler Hat. Extend my white cane. My arm in hers. And off we go into the future.