When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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I remember: The way he looked, listening to music quietly. Intently. Feeling the melody run through him like a river to the sea. I remeber the way he laughed, smiling, the crinkling around his eues. I remeber all the times he held my hand, and I held back like it was all I had. I rememember ... thinking I could stay here forever. Like a place you just dont want to get up and leave, but know that eventually you will have to.
I remeber the way that he tasted. Strange at first, and then familiar enough to know what home feels like. Felt like. Above all, I remebr us. The inexplicable pull towards each other. He called it connection, but he couldn't call it love. At least not yet. Not openly. He only ever, whispered it....but I knew it. Felt it. From the moment he first touched me. Was that real then? The love he felt for me before knowing me. Or was it enough? To see me, to feel it, to have a visceral understanding of waht it means to be us..
I remember driving with him. Going to meet his friends. Then driving to the water. Getting high in Ontario. Walking side by side, knowing that if he left me now that would be the end. Walking towards that danger anyway, and trusting....trusting.....Wonderign - if he did leave me - would I ever be able to find that kind of love again. Would it ever find me..would I ever let it in. Moving through the motion of our memories must have been one of the hardest things I had to do. I would ruin from it, and yet it owuld alwyas find me. In stillness. In silence....he always came back to me. On the weekends, in the evenings. When the point blank fact of my aloness therated to eat me up and spit me out into the dark nights.
I once told him, when you look at the moon I hope you think of me. I meant it. I really really meant it.
How selfish, to ruin somehting as magnamous aand ever present as the moon for somebody. And yet, was it not selfish of him to rob me of my solitdue, my days, my nghts...the thoughts in my mind...
He said,
"If you ever leave me, I'll still think of you every day."
So maybe its only fitting. For him to think of me every night too.
For he has not idea of what I would have to live with..
I remeber lying in bed with him. I remeber the way he felt, like all the power of the unierse was contained in that little space between us. I remember...I rememeber....I remember being so scared of losing him to another. I remeber him telling me that I was the only one. I remeber telling him not to lie to me.
