photographed by Jasmine Bannister

Lea,

is  of fire,

marked alive by the burns made with this blaze which animates it.

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Octave,

it is rather temperance.

So he loves her like he's looking straight into the sun.

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Their  Story begins, children.

Without daring to look at himself, with modesty and timidity.

So one day his eyes landed on her and now he sees to the bottom of her heart.

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They tied around them, without a guide to show them, a love on the thread.

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This kind of unrestrained love, with excess, which digs its fangs into your neck without possible scarring.

The kind of love that carries overly meaningful things in your place.

They keep each other upright, like a balance, a no-brainer.

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Here, we scream with pleasure as we crumble the world we have built in the hands of the other.

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It's burning love.

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   Cassandra.

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