Saturday, December 12, 2009

75/365 - Marcos

We meet at a jazz bar, then for two weeks hold hands, even when someone in a crowd tries to stone me, a mysterious moment we run away from together. He sends me perfumed letters and music. We dream of crossing borders to be together.


Karin said...

Why were they upset with you? What boundary were you crossing that upset them so much.

Tereza said...

That stoning in Mexico City is an unanswered question in one chapter of my life; a mystery, like I said. The border here is a literal one, dividing the countries we call home.