Amora: Stories

by Natalia Borges Polesso

I wanted to know more, I wanted to know everything, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

“No. My language. It’s chaotic, it comes from inside me, from a part of me that’s still wild. A part I don’t understand. I can’t grasp what I’m feeling.

Things get lost between my head and my mouth—somewhere unknown to me—and they never come back.

“You try to rationalize everything, analyze everything, scrutinize everything. Try feeling instead. Think about it, about your impulses.

I wanted to be able to do that, to immerse myself in some dark corner of my life only to surface at the other, brighter end of it.

Those nymphs, those muses, those minds—I twist my fingers and sigh, thinking of the Molotov cocktail that came at me like a good-night kiss.