We forget the water, sometimes
That all fluids in our bodies are a little salty, so there's no need to cry here
That we all started here, fetal and wet.
We're still inferior to it
It doesn't come naturally to us, like yawning or following gravity's pull.
You have to move down here,
Hold air inside
You can't be lazy, here.
We don't really belong, after time our skin rejects it. It wrinkles in protest.
But there are small rewards:
seeing the untouched sand, like rows of earth ready for seeds
And the sun from below it,
like the sun behind closed eyelids in the morning
Feeling ourselves in slow motion, timeless
Our hair waving like tentacles.
The break of the ceiling from beneath always a relief, always a disappointment.
A hard exhale and then again, even while floating above it, we forget
Poem by Giada
Performance by Gaia Scodellaro
Shot in the sea of Crete (Greece)
GoPro Hero 4 Black Edition.
on iTunes :http://goo.gl/oF9fwD