Adventures of a Forced Migrant Contact Me
Dedicated to my first dream in eons.
Neither black and white
Nor cloaked in technicolor.
Just one look
Just one touch
Soft red lips
Skin on skin
Too slow and yet too fast
It’s over before you know it.
Fading memories that seem more important than history
Frames that capture more than just photos
Fleeting moments that last more than a lifetime.
It may be the greatest folly
To remember what never happened
It may be the greatest gift
To feel so loved and so alive.
“If sex is repressed, that is, condemned to prohibition, nonexistence and silence, then the mere fact that one is speaking about it has the appearance of a deliberate transgression. A person who holds forth in such language places herself to a certain extent outside the reach of power; she upsets established law; she somehow anticipates the coming freedom.”
– Michel Foucault