I blew her a kiss, but it was not returned. Instead she pulled a face at me. I ask what do you do when your love is not returned? Perhaps I should cut my losses and move on. But in my dreams I see her in my arms. You see I am a time travellers, for centuries I have always returned to her. Always it was natural for her to fall in love with me. Even though she has never known of my secret.
Fables have been built around our love, The Greeks called me Cronos and her Achelois. The Romans knew me as Antony and called her Cleopatra. But today she is Elizabeth the First and I am Robert Dudley. Yet something has gone wrong, for she is unable to return my love. Everyone at the court knows that I love her, but it seems that I have lost her.
Her picture hangs in my hall, her image is burned into my mind, as if I had reversed the principle of the Camera obscura, and looked into the sun.