Asking for one last kiss was going to scar me for life, and a mouth drop when I got out of bed.
A blue atmosphere surrounded my body just as I hit the floor, the warmth I felt for a long time leaving my body as soon as the priorities were nailed to the desk. It was set on the cork paper, but my name had been scratched out in the face of a need posed by a children's book.
Now that I can remember, I carry the image of my shadow refusing to leave the second floor of a beloved building. Dragging it down the stairs was costing me my sanity.
I got into a car and never came back.
Recently I play at forgetting everything, I dance with my eyes closed and let my soul guide the movements of my arms as I hear voices calling me by my middle name.
- What do you have there?
- In the mouth?
- No, above the eyebrow
No one has noticed the hole left by the pin with which I was hung over the board.
Photography by Patricia Ruiz del Portal
