Entre las curvas de las montañas, la piel

Poetic archive of a sapphic genuine and organic love in the midst of millennia-old mountains.

Project

Poetic archive of a sapphic genuine and organic love in the midst of millennia-old mountains.
After 4 healing process years without any romantic or sensual relations, including a year and a half of pandemic isolation, I had forgotten what it was like to feel amorous love.
It looks like a vibrating river under the skin. It's firm, planted as immovable, visceral. A communion. A shared childhood landscape. The feeling of an unconditional complicity. Details. Intimacy. Micro universes. Delicacy. It freezes time and landscapes, and envelops them.
This project is about a swift and luminous romance pure as rock, soulful, that inhabited the flesh, confusing memory with haunting - à fleur de peau, connecting the feelings to the land organicity.
Even if this love story is now over, to take care of its root, of the love that was, and celebrate it.

Poem - Originally in Spanish

Between the curves of the mountains, the skin

Made of skin
Of rock
Of water

And the mountain knew
And the pink sky embraced
And the river sighed

Her breast
Against my breast
Her heart beating
To the rhythm of mine

Caresses the skin - frôler
Her leg
Mine
The air

Her laughter illuminating the mountain
Her gaze shining brighter than gold
Her neck calling my face
My hand guarding her belly

Her breast
Against my breast
My heart beating
To the rhythm of hers

It was the crushed grass yellow green
Keeping memory of our silhouettes
While in the black sky
We had looked at the stars

It was the taste of coffee in the morning
The glass of water beside the pillow
Shooting stars dancing in my belly
The breath cut off when I had to leave

I keep in my chest the memory of her hand on her heart
Her eyes looking at me from below
Her farewell wishing me well
Her tears balled up in her throat

I felt her sorrow
Mingled with mine
I felt a dull ache in my chest
That stayed like an eternal suspended time

She gave me a pebble
An illustrated poem
And an unfulfilled promise

Turned into memory