Photos & Words by Patrick
Beholden right in front of my eyes, a glittering handful of stardust in liquid form, creating a layer of silky transparency over my skin. Seeing my arms stretched out in front, floating and stretching into a breaststroke, a thousand of your hands applaud as I dive in. The feeling is very much similar to the way an intoxicant makes you feel – you sense everything. Every breath of wind is felt far deeper than my exterior.
Thank you for gently stroking the sides of my goosebumped body. For making your touch more loving and caring than the boy I saw last week. Thank you for swallowing me when I want to feel unknown, even if it is just for a second. Holding me up. Wrapping your soft, cold arms around me. There’s so much of you and so little of me – it’s easy to feel alone with someone so infinite. Your quiet, hushing voice makes me feel comfortable. Every one of your droplets touch me. With all it’s shimmering glory, it runs excitedly down my arm. You are endearing, terrifying, interesting. Nothing of you seems to go unnoticed. I feel connected to you, however, at the same time, entirely foreign. My mother once told me that perfection only exists in dreams. That may be why I consider you so perfect – you may not even be real. I realised that wherever I am, in a room with 4 walls, or apart of an endless universe of water, sun and stars, it may all be in my head. Whatever you may be, I look forward to seeing you again.