Red Hair, Pale Skin, No Defense

One of my exes broke something in my wiring that has never been repaired. She was a redhead—proper red, the kind you’re born with, not the kind that fades in the wash—and ever since, that specific combination short-circuits my brain reliably and without warning. Real red hair. Freckles. Skin like it has never been in direct sunlight. Those particular creases that form at the corners of the eyes when someone smiles. I genuinely cannot help myself.

The Swedish blogger Gillo Filippa—nineteen, photographed like a Dutch master painting accidentally uploaded to the internet—has been all over my saved images lately for exactly this reason. I’m a fan in the most helpless, slightly embarrassing sense of the word. My ex broke the wiring and I’ve decided to just live with it.