My hand pressed in yours I feel the warmth that flows through you. We walk around, having as much fun as we used to have when we were children playing in the backyard. This moment in life only belongs to us and it always will. You put your hand on my cheek, I close my eyes and enjoy this moment of happiness, far from sorrows, far from the haste that dictates our world. I put a kiss on your soft warm lips and recall the first time we met'¦

Our Steps lead us to the ancients' rest place, you challenge me with your eyes and your fire infects me. Slowly we enter and make our way through memories of old times, through centuries that are no more and corpses that got to dust long ago.
The night is clear and dark, somber yet it has a cheerful atmosphere.
As we are blindly led by instinct we eventually find the stone, our own special stone. Again you have this special look in your eyes that makes my whole body shiver, this look that tells me the night is young and can be always young if we choose so.
I press your body to mine, feeling your curves is making me complete and happy for what I think is the first time in my life.
We kiss again, harder, more demandingly than our kisses have ever been, our tongues play a game that quickly knows no rules anymore. It feels like the first time when our bodies were mysteries for the other, mysteries that were meant to be discovered. Our hands explore our bodies, they caress and stroke it as if tomorrow didn't exist, we nibble and taste it until we risk to explode from sensory overload.
We melt to one body, two mouths close to one everlasting kiss, our hands firmly into the other's. United together we are purely concentrated on the other's pleasures. I feel your heartbeat, your glowing sking, the perspiration on your forehead, you are pure passion.
Though there is nothing we'd rather do than scream out our pleasure, we know this proof of love is impossible to us.
Your mouth in mine, I hear you moan. We feel nothing of the cold marmor or the light wind, we feel nothin but our own lust. Inevitably we're nearing the end, it crashes like a freight train, liberating but still frustrating. Light fog is setting in, we can only see the outlines of the tombs, you lay in my arms, your eyes are shining andyour skin is warm.
We listen to the various noises in the air and while there is nothing to perceive but the low chirping of the grasshoppers and the purring of a straying cat one question remains:
On this instant moment, were we really alone? Or did we wake up voices from the underground? Maybe they even remembered their own times when they lived the same intense moment of happiness we just have? I hope they did and I hope to have given them a memory of those ancient times when they were still walking on the earth...

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