I'll stop by the bedroom every morning, just to arrange my bedsheets so that they match the outline of your breasts. I couldn't resist I had to lay my dry hands on those dry sheets and move along the outlines of your dry presence. From time to time- I collect strands of your hair and every evening I would suffocate myself right before mother walks into the room and whispers to my left ear-
Son love is suicide.
TEXT- THE FEMALE ZOO
PHOTO- LUCA GUARINI
