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My older brother sent me pictures he had just developed. He has a camera he's been meaning to fix somehow for a few years, and had a roll of film in it he never finished shooting. He called me to let me know that he now had a number of pics of Fire from when he visited me in October 2001. He scanned them in and sent them to me. Looking at those...
He's not typically beautiful. He's so sunny, and colorful - effervescent, and looking at those pictures brought back the textures of him. His hair, while quite unnaturally colored, felt wonderful. His face, his back, his sweaters, his coat, his fingers... I readily admit I'm a sensualist; when there's so much to sense, who wouldn't be?
It was hot in the subway on the way home, and not so cool on the walk from the subway to my apartment. I turned on the AC and hopped in the shower, and while I was at it I shaved, because hey, the razor hangs in the shower... I found myself stroking smooth skin while watching Olympics, texture, finger-combing my hair. This might just be me with too much time on my hands; it could be a need to get outside more.
I've been thinking lately that maybe the reason I call people so much (past boyfriends would attest) is the need to share my life - I am not a solitary creature. I'm better when I'm around others, yet I live alone. That's why it's so hard to not call someone with whom I'm close, or spend one night without calling anyone at all. (Well, that might depend on how tired I am, or if I go into the City... but I digress. Where the hell was I? Oh yes, the end.)
He's not typically beautiful. He's so sunny, and colorful - effervescent, and looking at those pictures brought back the textures of him. His hair, while quite unnaturally colored, felt wonderful. His face, his back, his sweaters, his coat, his fingers... I readily admit I'm a sensualist; when there's so much to sense, who wouldn't be?
It was hot in the subway on the way home, and not so cool on the walk from the subway to my apartment. I turned on the AC and hopped in the shower, and while I was at it I shaved, because hey, the razor hangs in the shower... I found myself stroking smooth skin while watching Olympics, texture, finger-combing my hair. This might just be me with too much time on my hands; it could be a need to get outside more.
I've been thinking lately that maybe the reason I call people so much (past boyfriends would attest) is the need to share my life - I am not a solitary creature. I'm better when I'm around others, yet I live alone. That's why it's so hard to not call someone with whom I'm close, or spend one night without calling anyone at all. (Well, that might depend on how tired I am, or if I go into the City... but I digress. Where the hell was I? Oh yes, the end.)
