The ways of love and care have been taxonomised. How can I love a branch as I love my sister? How can I care for a tadpole as I care for my baby?

 

Everything is an exercise, when you are looking for an equal exchange. The body as a unit longs for concrete conclusions, making use of designer-made touch and reciting sudden poems, not to disturb but to enhance.

 

But I crave for a loosely defined, more than human care—an intravenous love transference. The first of something is rarely clear. These anonymous structures that bridge bodies are looking for a sense of intimacy and mundane care that does not use human time nor insincere elastic extensions; thus transforming it into a tired performer.

 

This unrepeatable uniqueness of preverbalized safekeeping happens with the thinning of my strongman logic. For you, I must be fragile and forget how firm limbs feel.