That night I realized how much I missed him.
I tried to cry as usual but it didn't work.
He was gone and I continued to miss him,
missing all the things we were able to do,
but we never did.
It was us, silent, laughing,
holding hands and walking from afar.
Embraced, so tightly that I felt myself breaking,
as when he brushed her arms, her hands, her lips.
A photo that never existed.
Two children running, chasing each other,
trying to fly subject to a game.
One scratch, two tickets, one nap,
his head on my legs and nothing else mattered.
Just me and him.
What happened next? Accident.
What accident was he talking about? I could not understand.
He was an accident, always an accident.
Accident was us.
Photographers: Tomé Duarte