But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the most radical thing we can do is to record each other. To say: You mattered. You were here. I saw you.
They tell you love is fireworks. A grand gesture. A sky full of light. un video para mi amor
Because love— this love—is not a feeling. It is a verb. A small, stubborn action. Repeated. Again. And again. But maybe that’s the point
That when you laugh, I feel my ribs loosen. That when you are sad, I want to build a fortress around your silence. That I have become a student of your small devastations and your tiny joys. You were here
Darkness. Then a single candle. The flame flickers violently, then steadies.
Scared that one day, this video will be the only proof that we existed. Scared that the algorithm will bury us, that the pixels will degrade, that your face will become a blur of ones and zeros.
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