Un Video Para Mi Amor -

I am also scared.

"Te veo. Te elijo. Te guardo."

Because love— this love—is not a feeling. It is a verb. A small, stubborn action. Repeated. Again. And again.

They tell you love is fireworks. A grand gesture. A sky full of light. un video para mi amor

Scared that one day, this video will be the only proof that we existed. Scared that the algorithm will bury us, that the pixels will degrade, that your face will become a blur of ones and zeros.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the most radical thing we can do is to record each other. To say: You mattered. You were here. I saw you.

I will not love you perfectly. I will forget things. I will be late. I will say the wrong words. I am also scared

(I see you. I choose you. I keep you.)

Montage of small, sacred things: a half-eaten apple, a tangled pair of headphones, a pillow with a dent in it.

I am making this video because words, sometimes, forget how to arrive. They leave my mouth as smoke—beautiful, but gone before you can hold them. Te guardo

Do you know what I realized today? That I have memorized the sound of your breathing through a telephone line. That I can close my eyes and reconstruct the exact curve of your shoulder, the way light falls on it at 5:47 PM.

Un Video Para Mi Amor Visuals: Grainy, warm light. A window at dusk. Hands holding a coffee cup. Blurred city lights. Laughter from another room. A single flower losing its petals.