I would watch and tease her undergut with my gaze. Whispering slant looks into her and waiting for her every gasp in anticipation of it all. All this forging a slow blast into each other’s world then that we’d have such a hard time to find a separated life years after.
Part of the idea that present remains present, even when it apparently became past. O impresie de vara. How dissolutely summer days can just expire. With some traces to float you further in life, some leads, in spite of apparently nothing really happening.