Rome, one night.
Thick rain that hides two secrets.
They are made of colors but also of darkness, and despite this they recognize each other.
They walk in the same direction, even if each one’s secret weighs differently.
They manage to stay next to each other but they don’t touch each other, they scrutinize each other instead and each breathes, in his own way, the secrets of the other.
If secrets could have a body, they would simply be a man and a woman.
They would sit in a crowded room facing each other and removed the initial awkwardness she would let herself go with the stories, while he looks into her eyes and she feels the warmth of that gaze.
It would only be physical contact, a touch of his hand on hers that would break the balance.
A jolt, a feeling that she is crossing a line would make her retreat, that door of his secrets has opened that she is not ready to cross.
She would then wonder what lies beyond, could she bear it now?
The moment before escape.
Walking away quickly is all she would be able to do, not calculating that the door of secrets had already opened and his arms had already wrapped around her, taken her.
And when secrets are mixed it happens like when you mix colors, like blue and yellow mixing to create green; a man and a woman swept up in a mixture of secrets.
