Buzzing and slightly drunk, on caipirinhas and friendship and time passed and everything changing but nothing changing. My body vibrating above the hum of the whole world and against the warmth of two bodies, so foreign and yet so familiar to the terrain of my own.
In this moment, we are so full of light and gleaming and young and nothing will be the same again.
We rode there and back — Gabriel, Adri, y yo — the three of us bareheaded and reckless and laughing on the back of Gabriel’s motorbike.
***
At night, Gabriel pulls out a stack of photo albums and we flip through them; spellbound at images of the past: our parents, bright eyed and bushy haired in the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s — beacons of youth and joy and carefree existence that shock out into the vast oceans of our mind. And us: younger than we ever remember being, my arms wrapped tightly around him despite his less-than-pleased expression, communicating endlessly — he in español, me in inglés — the borderless language of children.
naladovy 