A word, if I may, on beauty.
Beauty is in honesty; it is in the baring of skin in a shy yet brilliantly brazen snapshot of self. An expression on the face that promises that she is exactly where you think she should be. A robe casually yet deliberately parted to reveal the curve of a calf, a thigh, a breast.
Naked is beauty, but it is in the accessibility of it. It is the threat of vulnerability, the ease of concession when a hand can part her thighs and find her wet to the touch.
The pictures I adore? Those that are wanton, but not indifferent. A stolen moment, a captured moment. Unexpected but required.
Sigh.