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Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
Azra.T “this is how you keep her” (via 5000letters)
Lioness, dear, I hope this isn’t too late.
The past two weekends have both been surreal, each in their own way.
The first was the origin of this photo. I made a getaway with a dear friend, C, into the wilderness. Instead of staying in a cabin for the first two nights, as we’d planned, we ended up “impromptu camping.” Even after we linked up with his family at their cabin, we spent our time outdoors, wildly adventuring, getting lost, finding our way back.. Skinny dipping has been on my bucket list for quite some time, but I did not expect to do as much as I did that weekend. I’ve learned that two huge aspects of maturity, and of being comfortable and at home in one’s body, come with realizing that nudity does not insinuate sexuality, and with not being afraid of our own anatomy, or of someone else’s. It’s not as simple as it sounds, but once you get there… just, wow. When we hit the first hidden lake - it was a 40 minute hike in, and then 10 more down to the water - I told C “I’m going swimming. Sans suit. You’re welcome to join.” And though he knew I was not shy, he still looked surprised when I stripped off my clothes and slid into the water. But lo and behold, there he was getting in behind me. And so the weekend went on, and by the third day it became a challenge. We did a 14 mile round trip hike, out to a chain of alpine lakes, untouched by anyone other than those who ventured out via the same trail we took, and made a point to be naked in each of the lakes. Total from just that day? 6 lakes and a waterfall, this photo is from one of the pools of the latter. The whole weekend was so liberating. I am a summer baby, a water-drawn wild child, and I got the escape I’ve always craved. Now, all I want to do is go back.
Now, this last Sunday.. The day started early with a shower and a drive, meeting scorp, and a 7am, 8 mile hike up and around Mt. Tamalpais. A swim in the glassy morning surf, a visit from a sea lion and a harbor seal, a bookstore, brunch, another drive. A movie, fingers intertwining, near misses, forehead kisses, and we’re making out in the middle of the day in some back alley in San Francisco. Classy, huh?
The fantasy wasn’t the execution. The fantasy was the feeling. It was clumsy and eager and soft. Laughing every few seconds at the absurdity of the situation, and fogging up the windows of my car without really even trying. Bumping heads on the roof and teeth and tongues and then asking “when will I see you again?”
There are things in the way: logistics, some distance, but this boy. That day. That feeling. That feeling is the embodiment of every fantasy I have ever had, of any I think I ever will. Doing things that ignite the spark in my belly that builds to a steady flame, to the rumble that burns my tongue when I speak. To the sound that comes out of my eyes when I miss him.
I don’t even know who I’m writing about anymore.