The Last Morning


The Sun God devoured the whole picture.

We came closer to the meteorite than ever before: we bathed in all the craters- except the one in the third shade of depth; more than 80 meters down.

We tried to avoid touching and harming the most ancient organisms.

Imaging a light of milk and turquoise, so the eyes cannot tell if they are looking outward or inward: in the dream, blinded, you squint, through your swimming goggles that don’t fit tightly. There is so much light, and body: the water follows the skin, and where the skin leaves the water the air takes over: I am enveloped. We are enveloped together.

The last dawn I reached the lagoon before the Sun. I set up the camera and it absorbed the very first sunrays, the entire portion, in peace. My eyes drank every hue from shiny turquoise to navy blue, internalizing a tapestry on the inside of my skull. But my camera registered Inti’s nectar as a golden halo of light that flowed and covered it all, flowing down between the cracks, between the molecules of the giant body of water.

The Sun God took my camera as it inhaled its last picture.



Take me to the last morning