I was eight years old when my mother told me that, despite their beauty the most colourful insects tend to be the utmost venomous ones.

At fourteen I fell in love with your enormous green eyes.

On my nineteenth birthday I finally understood, she had been right all along.

Six years from now I will be twenty-five and scientists will have a thousand more antidotes for when one gets stung. Yet, I know I will refuse to take a single one as your venom is what has always pumped my heart.

In 2032, eleven more years will have passed and I will smile, while I reveal the same tale of colourful insects that my mother warned me about to my daughter.

On a thursday, fifty years down the line. I hope to hold your hand, and look at the sunrise so that we can watch all of the colourful insects slowly appear and I can finally show you, where the story of our love began.