cerealeater
Virgin
- Joined
- May 24, 2003
- Posts
- 4
Just something I was thinking about earlier, and thought I'd toss it out y'all...
I am playing with images tonight, with lines and shadows.
It is hot here, terribly hot, and the sun goes down and the heat comes up from the street and the wind cuts at your legs like a buzzsaw…
So it is hot here, and I am watching water drops roll down the outside of my glass and thinking what is hot…
I’ve decided it’s silhouettes.
A linen curtain with a soft light behind it. A woman standing behind it, one leg forward, the other straight. The light is soft but direct, and in my mind’s eye, I can see all the details…
There is the flare of a hip. The woman’s hair is curled up at her shoulders. She has delicate hands and muscular legs. What the curtain obscures, my imagination draws in.
The sinews, the taut, smooth flesh. The only I thing I can’t see is her face, and I don’t think I want to. The imagination changes it from minute to minute, to suit my mood and her movements.
The silhouette’s breast wobbles – just a little.
Somewhere an air conditioning unit kicks on, and a nipple hardens.
The light softens and the figure begins to move, to undulate and sway.
Hands rise up from thighs and begin to move and sway passing in front of the body. Gentle, bold smooth strokes of arms, drawing patterns in the air.
The hair at the bottom of the neck begins to bob a bit, the breasts begin to sway, the legs begin to move …
I am playing with images tonight, with lines and shadows.
It is hot here, terribly hot, and the sun goes down and the heat comes up from the street and the wind cuts at your legs like a buzzsaw…
So it is hot here, and I am watching water drops roll down the outside of my glass and thinking what is hot…
I’ve decided it’s silhouettes.
A linen curtain with a soft light behind it. A woman standing behind it, one leg forward, the other straight. The light is soft but direct, and in my mind’s eye, I can see all the details…
There is the flare of a hip. The woman’s hair is curled up at her shoulders. She has delicate hands and muscular legs. What the curtain obscures, my imagination draws in.
The sinews, the taut, smooth flesh. The only I thing I can’t see is her face, and I don’t think I want to. The imagination changes it from minute to minute, to suit my mood and her movements.
The silhouette’s breast wobbles – just a little.
Somewhere an air conditioning unit kicks on, and a nipple hardens.
The light softens and the figure begins to move, to undulate and sway.
Hands rise up from thighs and begin to move and sway passing in front of the body. Gentle, bold smooth strokes of arms, drawing patterns in the air.
The hair at the bottom of the neck begins to bob a bit, the breasts begin to sway, the legs begin to move …
