On the other side of the continent,
on the other side of the ocean,
on the other side of the world.
In the farthest place that exists,
there is a country where everything belongs to you.
And in everyone’s names
you can find, one after another,
the same letters as in yours.
And in everyone’s faces
the same features appear
that once brushed against my fingertips.
And in everyone’s words
you hear the same cadence and accents
my ears once knew in your mouth.
There, trees grow when you speak
and people speak with your tongue.
Rivers are born where your feet walk
and flow into lakes the color of your pupils.
Days begin when you open your eyes
and end when you fall asleep.
Photography by Karen Anahi Olvera Vargas
