Description: a personal collection of photography, poetry, and random thoughts
Many of my friends are too well aware of my rather dry humour. Or my wild and inappropriate humour. Or – sometimes – my descent into unadulterated madness.
Today, these qualities will combine. And I shall also be adulting – specifically directed at women of a certain age and those who care about them. Care sexually, in addition to other forms of interaction. The topic calls for a bottom-line discussion here. You have been warned. The non-latex gloves are off.
So I’m relaxing in the tub, content with my usual foaming indulgence, assured that I won’t be interrupted by anyone. Living alone has its perks. Nobody pounds at the closed door or hollers at me to hurry up. I bathe in blissful silence. Through the steam, I can hear Bach and Handel. Bach appeals to me because, well, he’s Bach. Paterfamilias of multiple offspring, cornerstone of a musical dynasty, and rather attractive with his enigmatic half-smile, as if he’s hiding an especially fun idea that he will neve