Exchange of gazes, breaths and impulses through a transmission of sensations we become each others’ mirror. You embody my innermost being as you stand in front of the impressions you get from me. There’s no touch yet, in the vacuum of inexperience unable to describe each other I remain senseless to your paranoia. There’s no starburst, effects of imagination that can change you in my thoughts and still I continue to seek your patience in my own body as if you have entered in me with no permission.

We, being lost in silence of words, speak differently, physically attracted by our common dodgy smiles; we manage to have each other as a prize. Conquering one another bodies of darkened purple. We forget the nights of unfriendly skies as I maintain a piece of London in my eyes. You deliver yourself from sensing everything around, except me, you allow me to interfere your passion. The touch has yet to come.

I am careless to your approaches; I need your touch to have my body language back. I feel numb, unemotional as we interact distantly. I need no sorrow, no complex, and no uncertainty so I can speak to you with the physical language I have learned. Allow me to teach you my symbols, the motions of double passion! I get closer, so your sharp little nose may be the first victim of the scent I have chosen for you.

We start to know each other. After the first touch your body starts to imitate me, without tension we fuse ourselves into the unknown and yet uncommon. I challenge you without obligation to challenge me back. Like electricity we follow each others’ instructions as we become more addicted to this body language. Play words have been converted to physical ones to make us lose ourselves in this criminal intention. Changing, shaping – unifying acts lead us into tying our bodily secrecy. This completed nostalgia brings us into a white surface with lemons around. I choose the biggest and most yellow one to bitter my tongue; I smell it, bite it, moisten my lips…and share with you its soft pulp to continue our body communication, while the other lemons, yet greenish toward becoming yellow are unable to break our path into each other.

Sketch: Ami Narazani

Sketch: Ami Narazani

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