Click here to view the embedded video.

Words and film by Jude Wasserman

The words are a wave crashing over me. Riptides pulling us apart until we are two separate islands. In a year we will be almost strangers, and even now it is a struggle to imagine the softness of your lips, or the tug of our fingers entwined. Secrets crumble like fragile flowers pressed between pages of a book long ago discarded. Funny how the tide can sneak up on you, rising until it covers your ankles, your belly button, your throat. Saltwater burns, and eyes cloud until you can no longer recognize the space between particles.

“I’m going to go home tonight and this is it. It’ll be over”. 
This moment is captured crystalline in sickly sweet amber.

In my dreams you are still enchanted with me. I hold you while you shiver with cold sweat and fever. 
We met in a now outside of time, and so much of our love was islands colliding. When you are sick, you miss me, you miss your mother. And i understand how our connection is within and outside of now, and this too will be swept into the circuits and flows of cold seawater.

(Song is “Medicine” from A Stick and A Stone (astickandastone.com/)