The sun sets slowly over the sea, tinting the waves orange while the air still smells of salt and you. Your legs are crossed over mine, and you hold yourself against my chest as if that were your place in the world.

My arms wrap around your waist, with that gentle need to never let you go. Outside, the sea roars softly. Inside, the van is silent… just you and me, and the old camera on the table, a silent witness to this life we're building from scratch.

"Do you know what I like most about this moment?" I whisper it softly, my lips brushing your ear.

"What?" you ask, without moving, your voice calm.

"That I don't need anything else." And I mean it. No parties, no trouble, no Poguelandia. Just you, my arms, and this view that seems like an early memory.

You snuggle a little closer, looking at me. You exhale deeply, as if letting go of everything that ever hurt, as I brush a strand of hair away from your face and hold my hand on your cheek. And there, right there, while we look at each other, I swear that if we ever had a deal to record everything for our children, this scene goes first. Because it's peace. Because it's love. Because it's you.

And because if you ever doubt it... I want you to remember this moment and know: I would choose you a thousand times over, in every place, in every life, on every wave.