A. visited the café in my street every Tuesday and Friday morning, sometimes also on Thursdays.
His tall figure contrasted his fragile smile and made it impossible not to notice him. Something about the look in his watery blue eyes reminded me of a familiar hunger and I decided to meet him.
For two months, I visited his apartment every Sunday afternoon and we engaged in a performative act of feeding each other. We never spoke about it. In fact, we stopped talking as soon as the camera was set up and only wished each other a good day afterwards.
I don’t think we were able to satisfy each other’s specific hunger and I don’t know what we were really feeding each other, apart from the chocolate and the fruits. Was it just as sweet?