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Description
I - Je - Yo - Watashi - Ich - Io - Eu - Jag - Minä - Ja - Ben - Uó - Ana - Mé....

Self Portrait: Me And My corset.

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"She scratches, with nervous hands and the rain streaming down her back, down her eyelids, down her chin, down the inverted peaks of her hair (open and frayed), down the stones that surround her. Her knees will still resist a little bit more on that floor full of sharp rocks; they will still endure before the pain becomes insufferable.

She, blind in front of the thick mud where she is sinking her hands, isn’t conscious of what is staining her immaculate white nightgown.

“Faster, faster, faster” she gibbers, nervous, repeating that last word over and over, while her clumsy and delicate hands scratch, faster and clumsier.

She doesn’t complain of the small rocks that make their way through her knees’ skin and her hand palms’ flesh.

It rains. Her hair, long and blonde, falls, heavy, wet; little by little, it gets mixed up with the mud, leaving away its copper and luminous tone; her hair strands aren’t the same golden hair in which he used to play entangling his fingers anymore.

Over the stones that surround her there isn’t a Moon, only gray clouds are left; not even the cypresses’ shadows accompany on her search. But that… that doesn’t matter to her either… she just wants to see his smile one more time, feel his naked body in between her thighs, his succulent lips in between her breasts or whispering to her ear those words:"

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Description
I - Je - Yo - Watashi - Ich - Io - Eu - Jag - Minä - Ja - Ben - Uó - Ana - Mé....

Self Portrait: Me And My corset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She scratches, with nervous hands and the rain streaming down her back, down her eyelids, down her chin, down the inverted peaks of her hair (open and frayed), down the stones that surround her. Her knees will still resist a little bit more on that floor full of sharp rocks; they will still endure before the pain becomes insufferable.

She, blind in front of the thick mud where she is sinking her hands, isn’t conscious of what is staining her immaculate white nightgown.

“Faster, faster, faster” she gibbers, nervous, repeating that last word over and over, while her clumsy and delicate hands scratch, faster and clumsier.

She doesn’t complain of the small rocks that make their way through her knees’ skin and her hand palms’ flesh.

It rains. Her hair, long and blonde, falls, heavy, wet; little by little, it gets mixed up with the mud, leaving away its copper and luminous tone; her hair strands aren’t the same golden hair in which he used to play entangling his fingers anymore.

Over the stones that surround her there isn’t a Moon, only gray clouds are left; not even the cypresses’ shadows accompany on her search. But that… that doesn’t matter to her either… she just wants to see his smile one more time, feel his naked body in between her thighs, his succulent lips in between her breasts or whispering to her ear those words:"

Continue reading: [link]