Written by Rebecca Besnos
photography: Sunrise in Venice – 5.44am by Lorenzo Scudiero
And the words he said rang so true; she almost didn’t know what to do with herself.
“No one experiences any one thing in the same way. Everything you taste, hear, see and feel is different from the person next to you. I love your skin in this light, pale and perfect, your eyes smiling at me, but you could not, you could think you look pasty and tired, I don’t know. Who’s opinion is greater? Mine, of course, because it’s mine. And if that’s the way the world over thinks, how are we ever supposed to agree on anything?”
He took a toke of the joint, and she inhaled with him, breathing in his remnants, his wisdom.
“We have been conditioned to think a certain way whether we like it or not. Those leaves are green, we know this to be true, because we were taught colors, because someone told us this was so, but who knows? They could be fucking yellow but were still seeing green; we’re still green with envy. It’s a sad life to lead thinking you know the things that make you whole, only to realize that nothing rings as true as you would like.”
She looked at him in the low evening glow, relished the ease with which he spoke, a conviction she wasn’t sure existed within her.
“God, you’re smart,” she whispered, running her hand along his stubble.
“Only according to you,” he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and gently resting his lips on hers.