You make me sick, physically sick. It's a matter of seeing you for a merciless hurricane to form in my stomach. When you talk to me I feel my cheeks burn hotter than the sun and turn red. If you come closer I start to bathe little by little in sweat, until I look like a slug. Just by touching me a little you make my skin bristle as if it were made up of white mountain ranges. The worst is when you kiss me, I feel that my heart exceeds any speed so far known and will burst into a thousand pieces.
But you heal me, internally you heal me. It is enough to see that pair of stars on your face to feel that the world is all right. Just by having your smile in front of me, you stitch all the wounds in my soul. To hear your voice is to feel absolute peace. To come into contact with your skin is to reach for the stars with my feet buried in the earth. And if you kiss me I feel that I love you so much, that I don't mind dying with my heart bursting into a thousand pieces just to kiss you one more time.
Photography by Pierre Wayser
I write because a little ray of brown sunshine made me feel that I was capable of doing it.