To emigrate is to carry the soul lightly, as if leaving behind a life suspended, still in the distance. It is arriving at a new corner of the world and feeling as though you are reinventing yourself, as though you are being born again. Like a blank page, like an unwritten book, every step writes a new story, and in that journey, you allow yourself to be different, free, open to wonder.

The place and its people shape you, and with each change of horizon, it feels as if a new version of yourself is born. Could it be that every place, every land, transforms us? Here, nothing is as it was in the corner left behind, where familiar faces and cherished customs continue to beat, where language is a safe bridge. Even when sharing the same tongue, language has a nuance, a rhythm that is not the same; every gesture, every word, is a different echo.

And then the question arises: Who are we without those we love? As Sartre once said, “the other reveals us.” Perhaps, in the end, we are a blend of everything we have lived and everyone we have met along the way. To emigrate is to open yourself to those changes, to be shaped by every encounter, to be a sculpture in progress, where every new place adds a line, a new form to the soul.

Stop everything.
She is here.

Stop the world; I want to step off.
Step off to kiss her, to explore her entirely,
to go down to her thighs, savoring every part of her body.

The room fills with silence,
a silence broken only by hedonism,
by our moans.
Her body, an absolute aphrodisiac.

My hands search for her, eager;
my mouth discovers her, impatient to feel her reach her peak.
Her back, soft and delicate,
a canvas where my finger traces her spine.
I can feel how the texture of her skin shifts,
how the warmth of her body rises.

I keep going down, in an ecstasy that only Dionysus could inspire.
My lips carve a path that disappears into her skin;
I explore every corner, every curve that shapes her figure.
Her moans guide my movements,
and I, absorbed, let myself be carried away by the heat of her body.

Stop the world, stop the clocks, stop everything.

There are moments that should never end.
I want to keep this one forever:
the moment someone made me come more than five times.

As a tribute to Eros himself;
her, and her smile.

Detengan todo.
Ella está aquí.

Paren el mundo que me quiero bajar.
Bajar para besarla, para recorrerla entera, bajar hasta su entrepierna degustando cada parte de su cuerpo.

La habitación se llena de silencio, silencio roto solo por el hedonismo, por nuestros gemidos.
Su cuerpo, un afrodisíaco absoluto.

Mis manos la buscan, ansiosas; mi boca la descubre, impaciente por sentirla llegar.
Su espalda, suave y delicada, un lienzo sobre el que mi dedo dibuja su columna vertebral.
Puedo sentir como el relieve de su piel cambia, como la temperatura de su cuerpo sube.

Sigo bajando, en un éxtasis que solo Dionisio podría inspirar.
Mis labios trazan un camino que se pierde en su piel; exploro cada rincón, cada curva que forman su figura.
Sus gemidos guían mis movimientos, y yo, absorta, me dejo llevar por el calor de su cuerpo.

Paren el mundo, paren los relojes, paren todo.

Hay momentos que deberían ser interminables.
Quiero guardarlo para siempre: el momento en que alguien me hizo correr más de 5 veces.

Como un tributo a Eros mismo;
ella y su sonrisa.

Nix Evadne