softbird
Virgin
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2025
- Posts
- 840
Last night, for the first time, she looked at me. She looked at me. I was writing an email, timelines for the exhibition details and preparing of art spaces and the delivery of the pieces, et cet et cet, but I sensed the stillness in the room, as if the world stopped moving, and when I looked up, she was looking at me, at the strap of my bra, pastel blue, which had come into view as my dress clung to the edge of my right shoulder.
Her eyes stared, then at my shoulder, bare, and then, as if becoming aware of where they were, darted to my eyes, and the moment was broken.
The world began speaking again, and I adjusted my dress, and yet I had been seen.
All night, at home, I thought of bras and shoulders and thought of mine and what she would have seen, how she would have seen.
Have you truly looked at bras and how they wrap the skin?
View attachment 2563884View attachment 2563885
Her eyes stared, then at my shoulder, bare, and then, as if becoming aware of where they were, darted to my eyes, and the moment was broken.
The world began speaking again, and I adjusted my dress, and yet I had been seen.
All night, at home, I thought of bras and shoulders and thought of mine and what she would have seen, how she would have seen.
Have you truly looked at bras and how they wrap the skin?
