He was back in that old place, where memories were on riot. Nostalgia doesn't half describe what he felt. It was not the moon. Not the flowers. The shock of deja vu was in the ordinary things, in the vegetables and the sodden grass. The drizzle just added to the score.
He realized what many before him had already known. That love is not about joy, or happiness. It is about anguish, about a glimpse of the unreachable. A vision of what the human brain can achieve, and what no neural circuit has yet managed to duplicate.
Sitting on the moist rocks of the cliff, he realized he woud gladly go through the same pain, and grief. For love is a gift of god, even for athiests. A message form a power greater than humanity.
And he said to himself. I miss you. I miss you like the air I breathe. The ripple of the waves of the lake, like soft laughter, fills me with a silent loneliness nothing can ever wash away.
Where are you now? What are you doing?