She-girl. Sea girl. Seagull.

I can show her my unshaved legs, my tiny breasts, my scars and my bones and the empty space that still occupies my soul.

My soul opens like a hole in front of her, like a snake pit swallowing us whole.

My soul takes the shape of my white underwear which I displayed without her even asking for it.

Innocence reclaims its place in a space where a tropical forest could have been.

Oh, no. It’s just a parking lot where old men face me with their greasy backs while I undress the last layer of childhood left.

These old men work on their old cars and the tall buildings surround us, almost suffocating, almost protective – like it always has been.

Redemption always comes too late to wash away sins that are not meant to be forgiven, like she said.

I am split between at least two bodies of myself.

The pettite, fragile structure of a girl who used to gather all the broken souls, in an attempt to mend her own splittings and to caress wounds she did not want to hear of.

The slim, slippery sexualized feline waking up from its quiet sleep only to jump on your back with joy and desire.

She poured water over my head, like a strange and useless baptism, making sure she would not ruin the hairstyle he made for me.

My hair was not meant to be wet, it is meant to be covered in strong thick hair gel that would make it even drier.

There are places inside me which long for being moist all the time.

It is not my choice to keep them dry or closed.

It is theirs.

A cunt is the meeting place of all of their distorted desires while they slap you on the face when your legs are wide open.

Their hands burden my body and their voices tighten my soul.

Let us open our gates and rejoice in front of the splendid widths of our perimeters.

pictures taken by Irina Gache

this text is heartfully dedicated to her

hairstyle by Vivian and his invincible hair gel and comb

wearing fake Dior sunglasses from a thrift store in Obor

Listen to My Brightest Diamond – The Sea :

 

 

 

 

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