I was never one to walk. I’ve always been a runner. Someone to go long distances in a flesh,

You were the marathoner: the one to go further, but slower. Always cautious, patient, always the adult. I am the child.

I am the one who competes with the light and the wind: a tornado uninvited, selfish, reckless. I am the unclaimed daughter of chaos and love, the feeling of endless thirst and need. I needed you. All the time, every time.

You talked about morning walks on a sunny beach; a glass of corn fields and honey. You wanted peace, balance, calm. I wanted you.

You wanted to walk. Ever since that day, I never stopped running.


When I fell in love with your hands, I remember you had them around me.

We were dancing and you putted your hands around my waist in a way that was so delicate, yet so certain, so accurate. That was the first time I fell your hands on my skin.

After that we kissed, and you did this thing where you putted your hands on the back of my ear and… I don’t know. Your touch was never indecisive or confused, it was always brave, on time, always right.

Your hands were that part of you that would move and make me change my mind. I should have known your fingerprints were maps to my soul.


I first fell in love with your neck. The way it supports your glorious head and stands proud above your shoulders, I found it sexy. I imagined my hands around it, and all my fingers feeling your skin, as if I was playing the piano… Do you play the piano? When you play a piano, when you’re really into the piano, although your eyes are opened and you’re reading the musical stave, your head is shut down and your body moves with the song, it’s a magical thing. Your fingers move almost by themselves and you feel every key, every note, everything.

I imagined my lips touching you. Not kissing! Slightly touching your skin, as I can’t help but suffocate by the emotions I feel standing so close to you. You could feel my breath; it is as if I was breathing into your pores and taking the drops of life I, myself, have given you. In my head, you were always calm, always quiet, a boat and not a sailor. In my head I was a sailor and the sea, and everything in between.