hot summer days

the world scares me when I stop being delusional.

From January until now, everything is different. I didn’t even realize when the sun started leaving us at 10 and not at 4. I don’t remember when I started sweating again, or when I breathed. I don’t feel like I’m running out of time, but I don’t feel I have spare time either.

When did I start loving someone again? When did I begin all these new projects? I haven’t felt in love since I was 18, 19. This year, I’m turning 23.

I still remember the hot summer days in the pandemic. I could lie down in the sun for hours, tanning with nothing to do. Two movies per day and some online classes that no one seemed to care about, when life was so uncertain.

I also remember the summer days at my grandma’s. She used to flip towels upside down so when she rolled herself in one, the side touching the grass would be the one showing

up. I miss her. I wish I had videos of her to play on repeat on days like this—to show my loved ones the person I loved the most. I guess she couldn’t stay longer to see my creative side, or maybe she already saw it when I was 11.

Paris is burning, like the movie. The world is burning too. Sometimes I don’t know what to think about my own presence in it—torn between wanting to gain more and preferring not to. The world scares me when I stop being delusional. Are we all becoming more ego-driven and more self-centered in our private worlds, simply because our shared one frightens us too much?

And yet—

the sun is shining.

the sky is blue.

I have flowers at home.

I have love to give.

And I feel it around me too.

frame from my youtube video ‘resetting my whole life during a summer in the city’