I don’t begin with a step. A long look at the sinew of a leg is fair better. You point your toe and flick the leg. The foot is like a pendulum . I have little interest in it or time but the movement draws my eyes. The journey over the leg moves me.
The longing to touch what makes. My head skips as the lines that form you. The curves bring reckless thoughts. What pleasure hides within those lines. The graceful moving could lead where. The mind begs the eyes to keep moving.
My journey to record your image. Burn it into the brain. So I can look back upon this. This very moment. The one that began with that leg