Closer
When I think about him, I can feel it again. Pure, unfiltered emotion, running through my purplish veins and electrocuting my frail body like fish hunting prey in the deep sea. When I think about him, I can feel his presence again. The last time the two of us were in a dance room together, I was only a boy with hopes higher than a skyscraper, but look at me now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you compared me to a weeping willow. Him and I, we both knew our paths wouldn’t cross again, but we decided not to seal our farewell with a kiss or parting words like you’d expect from two lovers or a final goodbye between master and pupil. The last time the two of us breathed the same air and occupied the same space, we stood still, enjoying the growing tension between our bodies in the bliss of the crisp silence that fills the air on a bright Sunday morning. Caressed by the alluring whispers of the wind and the ambery tones of an early autumn sunset, I stand in the same spot where you last called me your most perfect creation, and I find comfort in the memory of us, I find comfort in the thought that one day the weeping willow will drop its very last leaf and I’ll finally be with you again.
Credits: Photo by Dmitrii Vitte / Talent Misha Barkidjija / Grooming by Yuliya Isaeva / Still Life by Emilio Murolo / Text by Marco Martello / Production Assistants Shura Kharina and Elena Redega