My soul is chronicled through the dance of gusts of wind and the cacophony of overcrowded rooms. It’s etched in the burnt tastebuds of bitter experiences, the chapped fingers of perseverance, and the warmth that colors my skin. Each bump and bruise become a part of me, absorbed by the weave of my memory. The past spreads across my consciousness like a thin coat of blood beneath my skin, an indelible mark of the moments that have shaped me. 

Time may have the power to heal, but healing does not erase the passage of time. It lingers, a bittersweet reminder of the keepsakes we thought we had let go of, and the semblances we believed we were immune to. The coffee may have run cold, but the memory remains warm and vivid, refusing to fade.

Touch is a continuous thread that weaves through the fabric of our existence. Our physicality acts as a catalyst, drawing forth the deepest layers of our authentic selves into focus. It is through these sensory encounters that we find ourselves laid bare, our vulnerabilities and strengths intertwined in the delicate dance of human connection.

In the ebb and flow of life, we are the sum of our experiences, our joys, and our sorrows. Each moment leaves an indelible mark, chronicling the story of our souls. And in the end, it is through the touch of others and the resonance of our shared humanity that our true essence is revealed, layer by layer, in the chronicles of our existence.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer