Out of the depth of Gobi tent, ears still pulsating from Kaytranada’s bass, the field opened before me as I found myself wading towards the horizon of your deep blue eyes.

You were sitting with your friend; I don’t know, a white girl with a nose ring, I think? I could barely see her. You had jet black hair dyed ocean blue. Black shorts, black shoes for miles (okay inches, but a lot of inches). I noticed your wrists; slender and taught. You were wearing galactic blue contacts, but they could never fully veil those eyes. Those eyes. Those eyes.

I was the guy with the inflatable banana. It was silly, I know, and you didn’t care much for it, I know, and in that moment I would have eaten that thing for 5 more minutes with you. We talked about Kaytra, the festival, life. You said your name was Mello, or Mellow? Short for Melanie? Melody? You are Persian, and I was being poro.

We parted when your friend needed to leave. I was still lost in the infiniteness of those eyes. I could see constellations of a mesmerizing, beaming personality. I needed to explore those eyes. I couldn’t get up.

I didn’t catch your name. It’s eating me up inside. The girl with the black hair dyed blue. The girl with the galactic eyes. The girl with the platform shoes. What was your name?

–

do you know this girl? maybe your friends do? please share this.

hi@blackhairdyedblue.com

–