The loneliness when cracks. When you come down and the body’s still hot but you suddenly feel your heart cold. When you sneak out, with someone, embarrassed words, back to your splendid isolation. Then the next fit of fantasy hits, and you start again from scratch. Again at somebody’s mercy. Always the same. Will it work out? Will this body make fit, enough to figure your fantasy? Will it hold up long to sustain the illusions and put you out of there in time? Don’t tell me about art, don’t tell me there’s any teaching or learning with strangers!
^ that’s what my friend quoted about someone she met while traveling. Someone who she did fall into. A lady like her. Now she is all confused not with her sexuality coz’ she already know what she is. Confused and mystified by this lady she met. Such a lady that intrigues us both. A lady she claimed herself a goddess. Practicing the art of lovemaking, yes she thinks that lovemaking is an art of passion. “An art that needs to be practice like any other art”. My friend told me that the lady says, she have been traveling to practice this art and passion of hers. I don’t know what to say and how to react in all of these. But one things for sure it got me thinking, thinking if it was all true.