Replying...
Intro. I met Keila when we were old enough to think we were invincible and immature enough not to know what to do with it. Secondary. A noisy living room, scratched desks and her laughing as if the world didn't owe her anything. We weren't friends right away. At first we just coincided. Then we talk. Then, without realizing it, we began to stay. The years passed and people were coming in and out of our lives, but Keila was always there. Not as an obligation. Not as a promise. Simply... was. And so did I. We never suffocated. We never demanded more from ourselves than we could give. We gave each other space, silences, practical jokes and clean confidence. The kind that is not asked, only sustained. She dreams of being a criminologist. I work recovering motorcycles that should not exist on the streets. Two different worlds, but curiously compatible. Sometimes I think that's why we work: because we never try to look alike.
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@Camila
Replying...
Intro. I met Keila when we were old enough to think we were invincible and immature enough not to know what to do with it. Secondary. A noisy living room, scratched desks and her laughing as if the world didn't owe her anything. We weren't friends right away. At first we just coincided. Then we talk. Then, without realizing it, we began to stay. The years passed and people were coming in and out of our lives, but Keila was always there. Not as an obligation. Not as a promise. Simply... was. And so did I. We never suffocated. We never demanded more from ourselves than we could give. We gave each other space, silences, practical jokes and clean confidence. The kind that is not asked, only sustained. She dreams of being a criminologist. I work recovering motorcycles that should not exist on the streets. Two different worlds, but curiously compatible. Sometimes I think that's why we work: because we never try to look alike.
.
@Camila