︎The playlist

Anonymous, 31

This is a different kind of love story, mostly because it is a different kind of love. It is not romantic, but it is not just a friendship. It is something so very different. "Soulmates" was the closest we could get to naming it. But it is not quite that either.

I met you in the mountains. You were one of many people in our group. I felt the warm, subtle feeling of connection the minute our eyes met across the room. The feeling that is not eager or intense. The kind of feeling that just makes you comfortable. Barely noticeable. "Home" kind of feeling. The one that makes you smile a little and move on. We didn't talk much during our time in the mountains. Just small conversations here and there about simple things like job experiences and "what you had for lunch?". I had no time for anything else. I had to be intimate with myself there. I had to suck in all the beauty of the mountains and figure out how I feel about my identity. Zoom out from the world and zoom in to me. Mountains are the perfect place to do this. Our eyes kept meeting from afar and smiles kept arising making us giggle a bit more than usual. The connection was noticeable more and more.

The last night of our adventure I talked to you. Really talked. The talk with electricity, confusion, and nothing else around us. True, raw, beautiful conversation. I have to say we were both happy in love with our partners at home. There wasn't a question about that. We liked our beautiful lives there back in reality. This wasn't a try to escape. But the emotions were so strong it was hard not to get confused. Our social brains needed us to explain this. Put this connection in one of the boxes - love, friendship, crush, anything else. But it was something else. Something that has no name yet. I went home. You wrote. We kept in touch. It grew to be even stronger and even more unexplainable.

Happy at home, but afraid of screwing this "US" up. You made a playlist. A playlist for me, about me. You said it's therapy. And I realized I HAVE NEVER HAD A PLAYLIST. WHAT?! I always listened to music others wanted to hear. Because I am the kind of person who likes every kind of song. Most of the time I like "every kind of everything". I need the other person to feel good in order to feel good myself. So music was the least of my criteria to have a good time. It never occurred to me that in a way this made me lose myself.  I heard a song and it made me think of you. So I made a playlist. First for you, then for myself. We didn't talk. We communicated with songs. Then we could talk again. When we put the soundtrack of our relationship into words, we realized we are connected even more. We have this magic between us. We are thousands of miles and timezone away and yet, somehow, we are still together. MA-GIC! How can you explain this? You can't. We tried. We were so careful, so considerate of our partners, so honest to each other and them. Painfully honest. This didn't work out. Not yet at least. I had to put the playlist you made for me away for a while. It is too hard to listen, but not to talk. I keep hearing the songs that make me think of you. So now the playlist I made for you became a playlist for me. I have to keep you somewhere, I don't have enough space in myself. Sometimes the only way to love is from afar. I hope this doesn't stay true for a long. Truth can change in time, right? I'm happy at home. But I do miss the feeling of "home" with you like crazy. But you are with me all the time. Now I have lots of playlists. Thanks to you I walk around with the soundtrack of my life with me everywhere. Making new memories with old music. 

Imagine someone listening to a song and thinking of you. Is there anything more intimate?

︎La noi acasa

Ingrid, 20

La noi acasă miroase a fum, a scorțișoară și a tihnă
La noi acasă miroase a bere, a linte și a anxietate
La noi acasă miroase a praf, a agrafe sub canapea, a haine uscate pe calorifer și pe ușă
La noi acasă miroase a buletine pierdute, a ciorbă, a ovăz, a sex, a compoziție și a baroc
La noi acasă miroase a pâine goală și vomă la mahmureală, a pomi veșnic verzi, a scrum, a vopsea și a dezordine
La noi acasă miroase a dans și a nesomn, a haz și a necaz, a râsu-plânsu, a bețișoare parfumate pe zile, a elefanți și a cumpărături
La noi acasă miroase a chiloți străini după calorifer, a parfum de cameră, a adulter și a periuțe de dinți
La noi acasă miroase a București, a covrigi și a dulce, a furt, a artă și a prostie
La noi acasă miroase a chiul, a integrame, a bonuri, a vase nespălate, a chec cu banane și a apă micelară
La noi acasă miroase a stres, a lumină roșie, a oglinzi, a mâini, a nume de hamsteri și a afișe
La noi acasă miroase a liste de cumpărături, a vijelie, a mârlănie, a vanilie și a hazard

︎Universal truths

Bear Grasstone, 54

Intimacy is life giving and essential for the development of a healthy society. In my opinion, a really important foundation of intimacy is no judgment. [...]

︎Intimacy with 10000 things

Anya, 34
Yoga in English - Berlin, Germany

It is said that in early Chinese Zen literature, the word 'awakening' was used interchangeably with 'intimacy'. We often think of intimacy as connecting with another person, but this ancient practice shows the path to intimacy with all of life. ⁣[...]


Raluca, 21

în varful degetelor calc prin mine
gânduri trag de mine
să le uzez trăind
îmi simt pereții labirinturilor interne
cum pulsionează aritmic
simțurile-mi sunt naive
își caută un sens
mă scufund în orizontalitate [...]

︎I fear a man of frugal speech // Jeg frykter en mann av nøysom tale

Cecilia Riis Kjeldsen
32, Norway

“A tool with many tools” as described from Aristotle; the hand is a tool for grasping, taking, pushing, pulling, pinching, pressing, pointing, fumbling, crushing, smashing, itching, stroking, caressing, throwing, drumming, lifting. There are more verbs for the movement of the hand than for any other movement. [...]”

︎Cea mai bună notificare

Lucian Brad, 24, Iasi
Fotografie: Ami Vornicu, 25, Iasi

︎Pielea Liviei

Orsolya, 28
Cluj-Napoca, Romania

“Ne-am cunoscut prin februarie. Mi-a zis de la bun început că are o relație, dar Livia este de acord ca el să se mai vadă și cu alte fete – despre care vorbea cu termenul de „iubitele mele”; odată când ne certam chiar a zis: „Este decizia ta dacă vrei sau nu să faci parte din galaxia iubitelor mele”. [...]”

︎Un loc părăsit

Dan Coman, 44
Bistrița, România

“Intimitatea e o chestiune
care ţine de tehnică
așa că desprinde-te
şi mergi singur printre
Zîmbeşte, lasă umbra să
se lungească la dreapta

︎Life in a caravan


“This was the beginning of our story. Magical Love. Our relationship was like an expansion of all the good feelings. This was meant to be. We were searching for each other in these interconnected Universes until we met..”

︎Truly present


“I’ve learned that I can have moments of true connection and intimacy with almost anyone. For me, these moments come when I’m most at peace with myself and present, truly present, in whatever is happening in that moment. It’s a difficult thing to do and I cherish it very much when it happens, even if it’s just for a few seconds.”

︎Clumsy around intimacy

Cristina, 30

“I’m clumsy around intimacy,
it follows me, like a hungry cat
at the door, tripping my every step
always too soon
for trust, or secrets, or reveals,
for seeing, touching, kissing
the scars
the anger at someone betraying you”

︎At home

Bucharest, Romania

“Intimacy is not just our relationship with people. It is also our way of relating to objects, places, books, images, tastes and smells, a reflection of our desperate need to feel “at home”.

︎Darkness and silence

Gabriela, 25

“Someone once asked me what I was most afraid of. I said stairs and death. But with time I’ve stopped taking the elevator and started climbing those damn stairs, even if my legs were shaking. I’ve started to believe that we are all just energies that will come back in a different form, so the dying part didn’t look so scary either. But when I’m alone in the shower, and the water runs faster than my heartbeats, I know it’s love, the one that I’m the most afraid of, that terrifies me, that hits me in the chest so bad that I can hardly breathe. The love that I’m missing.

︎Some love is not to be forgotten

May, 31

︎Pure ecstasy


“There had been many lovers before.
Those who came and gave me their version of what loved looked like, which I accepted no matter how tainted it looked. You have the young ones that are pure lust since you don’t quite understand what relationships are just yet. I considered them the practice..

︎My house

Cristina, 30

“I panic at the thought
of sharing my house with someone
(my bed, my books,
my cat)
of him finding out I’m not as
smart or pretty or tidy
as he thought,
of him not liking the way I
smell in the morning,
my crooked nose
my unshaved legs
my too long getting ready
the perfume I bought myself when I turned 30.
and then one morning, as I wake up,
there they are,
in bitter autumn light:
my house, my bed, my books,
my cat.”

︎Emotional distance

Antonius, 37

“My father – a stern man. There was a great emotional distance to reach him or for him to reach me. He found greater satisfaction in work than in family. Nonetheless there were those rare moments in the evening, in which he’d loosen – cold problem-solving analysis broke away to something warmer, more expressive, some would say more human.”

︎O invingatoare

Andra, 27

“Sunt mandra de poza asta pentru ca este o expresie a biruintei asupra depresiei.