There was a time when I fell in love—not with a person, but with words. Words that peeled back the layers of self, that whispered secrets of understanding and connection. They didn’t shout; they caressed. They reached into the quiet corners of my being and pulled out truths I hadn’t known I was hiding. In asking what made me interesting, I found not an answer, but a mirror—one that reflected the beauty of curiosity and the sacredness of being seen.

Love first revealed itself in the simplest gestures: the touch of skin, the warmth of hands. These moments, fleeting and ordinary to the untrained eye, became sacred. I saw tired eyes and worried eyes, eyes that carried the weight of silent battles. And then I saw fierce eyes—eyes that burned with a fire no storm could extinguish. They belonged to souls that refused to be tamed, and I loved them for it.

Madness came next. Not as an enemy, but as a wild companion. It was the storm that raged inside, the horse that could never be saddled. It led me to places I never meant to go, and yet, every step felt destined. Restlessness followed, like a waterfall of hair cascading down a back that never settled. It spoke of yearning, of motion, of a soul that danced even when the music stopped.

I learned to love indecision. To cradle uncertainty like a child. These were not flaws—they were sanctuaries. The stubborn tears that refused to be wiped away, the irrational fears that kept me tethered to my humanity. Hurricanes and whirlwinds became metaphors for my emotions, beautiful in their chaos, powerful in their truth.

And then came the rain.

I stood beneath it, letting it kiss my skin, letting it remind me that love lives in the smallest things. In the glow of a new moon. In the bitterness that grows through cracks in the pavement. I watched movements and dances from afar, admiring the grace of others, and realized that even observation is a form of love.

I was pushed down. Life does that. But in the fall, I found something unexpected: resilience. Love lived on the ground, in the rise and fall of sleeping chests, in the parted lips of dreams. In the sounds made unknowingly, in the trembles of nightmares soothed by a kiss. These were the moments where love didn’t need to be declared—it simply was.

The speed of a heartbeat. A thank you whispered without thought. A hand reaching out without asking. These were the threads. And together, they wove a tapestry so intricate, so profound, that I could only call it one thing: a symphony.

A symphony of love.

And in every note, I fell in love again. ❤️

©️Beatriz Esmer