My skin, as ancient and rooted as the ocean’s pulse that guided a history of homesick hearts to strange lands, bears the marks of time and journey. It is as vast as the cracks formed between two broken continents, a map of memories and scars that tell tales of voyages and discoveries.

No, my skin is not my own; I am merely its traveler. Each line and mark are witnesses to past lives, to loves lost and found, to dreams that faded and hopes that blossomed. I am a pilgrim, navigating this vast territory of flesh and history, feeling each pulse, each breath, as if they were my own.

And so, I move forward, knowing that my journey is but one among many, that my skin is an open book, waiting to be read and understood. I am a traveler, and my skin, a universe of stories yet to be told.

© Beatriz Esmer