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Storm عاصفة...

Storm عاصفة… I remember how you feel, With your hands, Around my waist like that, Your thighs, Around my hips like that, Asking me, “Is this what in love is like?” Your voice, from far away, If only once, To hear again. “Hi, habibti.” “My Prince.” “I’ve been waiting to hear only those two words, my love.” “I’m here for you, Prince. To make every part of you feel whole.”

Summer's symmetry in b&w.

Summer’s symmetry, Water sounds in sync to night, Illuminated. Excerpt from Between love poems and solitude.

Sunshine.

Husband, I love you, like, sunshine and the warmth it gives. I almost feel it pierce through me softly, from inside to the outer part of me, warming the fair hairs on my forearm and wrist. It makes me close my eyes, feel my lashes. And I think about how happy it makes me, to be here in this only moment, feeling it caress, brush across my first three layers of skin.

Surrounded by blue.

I am swept up into you, Infinite and patient, powerful love. I, soft clouds, wrapping and reshaping, Caressing your trunk, Leaves, And extremities. Space between to gaze upon the, Unyielding wonderment of you. You, Surrounded by blue. Excerpt from Between love poems and solitude.

Tangerine.

Tangerine tides, I lie down, Surrounded in the quiet, Of a wave, And its crash. You, in the room, A stroll back, Sleeping, Beautifully, With the side of your face, Showing a smile, While you dream. Rest, my Prince. From last night, Before orange rose, You decide, To get me drunk, On strawberry wine. Licking whip cream off, Key lime pie. With me held down, By the weight of yourself,

Té amo, from el gato.

I sit on the bed my human sleeps on… I like to wait, Sit and insist, She, Come to me, to, Hold me, tight, But not too close. It is 10 o’clock. Where is she? One day, I will be a ghost. She will wish I was here, but, I will be on the other side, Flip side of, This world and universe. She will be sad not to pet me anymore,

Tell ‘em Gerónimo sent you.

Gerónimo: Hey, psst… You Meira? You the one heading north. Me and my boys need you to do some work of an inconspicuous nature for us down here… We need you to frame, I mean courier some packages, sensitive photographs let’s say, back and forth. Understand? Me: I don’t really… Gerónimo: I ain’t asking… Look for Bugsy, he’ll take care of everything, and your accommodations. Me: I already have a…

The everyday.

I value powerful art, no matter difficulty to see, read. And despite sometimes disturbing nature, once understanding from other side. I see this scene with heavy heart. And I see in praised photography too many times. I think, what will one buy after leaving this animal? And what will one eat later in day, leaving this landscape? No being on earth has right to take life from other for self, enslave for self, to satiate self.

The Simona.

I met a flower-like figure of rare, unworldly traits, designed of mythological moods, shadows and soft, pink light. Aphrodite herself would want to pluck, and keep her for herself. I look even closer in the black and white, me unable to stop admiring her vintage effect, of old, magical places. Places from time travel and paper photographs. And a glow from within her, blinding me, so much so, I take steps back.