The world has turned into the place where people get hurt, where the man I love will one day die. Everything speaks to me of his safety, his proximity – time is a mechanism to measure how long we are apart. It’s not that I think about him constantly, he is my way of thinking. His mind is my compass, his eyes my only mirror. Every night we roll down bamboo shutters against the forest and he does not enter my dreams or leave them, because we dream together. My body knows he is there. When we wake, we want the same thing.
