My fingers traced the tattoo on his back, a compass in between his shoulder blades, not thinking about anything except the present moment and how all I wanted was to get closer. North… then east… south… then west. I wasn’t thinking about how it was my last night in Rio, I wasn’t thinking about how crazy it was that I would get on a plane the next day and say goodbye to the people and the city that have so touched me. I would later come to know the heart wrenching, stomach churning, lung collapsing feeling that what I experienced would remain in the past while I moved forward in time. All the laughs, the inside jokes, the beautiful mountains, the beaches, the late late nights, coming home at 6 AM to our sunrise, the long talks, the hysterical laughs at breakfast, bonding in the back seats of buses– the beauty of the city punctuated by the people I was with. And now, time was up. Planes were set for take-off. Goodbyes were in order. And I wanted to do everything in my power to stop time from moving, but this is the untouchable nature of memories. I am left with the only thing I can do – remember.

And all I knew in that moment was the way he looked at me, sitting in the quiet kitchen while the rest of the world was sleeping, after a blurry night with one too many drinks, letting me live where the present overwhelmed me.

I didn’t want the morning to come, but in that moment, there was no morning. There was only that moment.

9:37 pm  2 notes

— William Chapman
(via wordsnquotes)

(Source: wordsnquotes.com, via psych-facts)

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