​This is how I love, and it’s always frightening. I want to get inside people like a second skin. I want to love you like you love yourself, I want to know where your mind runs when you see something that reminds you of your childhood, I want to know about the day you realized you…

When we think of carnal pleasures, or pleasures of the flesh, the first thing we think about is sex. Of course, there are other pleasures of the flesh, such as eating, drinking, enjoying nature, music, art, conversation… all the pleasures we gain from our physical senses, our body and our mind…

For our existence on Earth, love and pleasure are closely related. Physically speaking, they create a lot of the same chemicals. We say things like, “I love to dance”, and “I love to eat”…

I want to talk about ‘feelings’, the poetry of the movement, what makes you feel comfortable with people, in all levels, it is not only about sex or lust, but about everything that makes us to sense as complete human being.

Romantic love

There is something amazing about this feeling. Being “in love” is about the way you look into each other’s eyes and the way their mouths say, “I love you.” It’s about grabbing each other’s faces and suffocating each other, because you cannot bear to be disconnected from them for a moment. It’s about clinging to each other naked, but still holding the other tighter, because you still are not close enough. It’s when you notice the little things. The way people push their hair, or the way they move their lips or when they are laughing. Simple things seem so beautiful; getting intoxicated by another soul, feed ourselves by another existence. It sounds so pathetic, is not it? But we get ridiculous when we fall in love, at least I do… so intense when we are born, the first breath.

‘Let me frolic along your curves and run my fingers through your hair. I have heaven to give you. Let me speak to your body. Speak the angel’s language; my body needs to talk to your body, listen to my deep desire from your skin…’ 

Jealousy is not love, it is a sense of possession, it is love that got sick, and it is slavery. Love makes us free from all ties, sets us free literally… 

Friendship  and love 

Fraternal, sacred, the plurality of love — Some people say friends are brothers and sisters that we choose, because sometimes we do not get along so well with our brothers as we get along with our friends.

Friendship is the anchor that keeps us on the ground, gives us balance. Our friendships define who we are as a person, and who we are in our society. And the bonds of friendship can be as strong as those of blood and family, and so precious, priceless we could not live without it.

Friends are those with whom we can talk, interact, share experiences, and recount our sorrows. They are the people we lean on when we are weak, and the ones who encourage us when we no longer believe in ourselves. They are the ones who protect us when we are threatened. And we do the same for them. Friends are love synonym and hope for better days.

I have angels in my life who I call friends! 

My conception about love

I do not believe love is having someone to fill in an empty hole in your heart. It is not about having someone; it’s about having that one. I do not believe in true love or a soul mate; I believe any of these loves can occur with a multitude of people, but I feel like nothing will ever be the same for each person. To keep a person with you because you are lonely is not love. There is just taking, no give. Neediness is not love. Obsession is not love. Putting someone up on a pedestal is just as dehumanizing as putting someone down. You cannot create an image of what love is and project that on a person. You cannot go out and look for love or buy it. You also cannot believe your lover will complete you. You are complete; she or he would just be an accessory on yourself to enhance your life. I just see so many people force these things and have such skewed visions of what to expect that they are unable to see what they really have and appreciate it for what it is.

I love this concept; a temporary madness and love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident…♥

Michelangelo  —  Louvre Museum — Paris: Psyche, whose name means “breath”, daughter of royalty unnamed, sister of two who leaped to their death, once considered rival of Aphrodite, lover of Eros and mother of Hedone. Representation of the human soul and goddess of soul.