the beginning of love – 愛の始まり – le début de l’amour

Haruka sits with her back to the wall in the golden light of a lamp that gives her skin a dazzling glow. I seek her gaze to better understand what she told me. I scrutinize with insatiable joy this jewel of flesh and bone that speaks without moving, an arm resting on the knee naked. I no longer listen to it. I keep quiet. I look at the motionless hand, very beautiful, that shines next to the knee. Face, knee and hand that go their way under my eyelids. Obsessive visible that will persist in my gaze wherever I go. This is why, in me, the beginning of love is first an image.