By: Michael Sixto

“I am nothing, I am nothing” she keeps telling me while I play with her curly hair. We are both naked in the middle of the park and the grass is soft and wet, and surprisingly warm. We have no excuse to escape, that’s why we stay still listening to each other’s heart bits, like the sad pictures of the past. “I am nothing” The eco of her voice digs a hole in my brains, but I am not angry. I perfectly understand madness. I tell her that the pain will go away. It always does, one way or another we manage to find the way out, the source. Many people start to arrive intoxicated by her chant. Intrigued, their nude bodies surround us in a soft cuddle that grows by the second. She smiles. Not a single word is heard after that, never again.