Member-only story
You move like a snake when I fruitlessly trying to capture you with my camera.
You are the apple of my eye… I contemplate if this phrase comes from biblical stories.
Yet I don’t get turned. I feel alien even when you present me with the fruit of yourself.
I taste iron of Christian morality on my tongue as if I am sucking on a silver coin. I should be sucking on you. I wonder if photographing a naked woman in heat is like wrestling with one’s soul — the more fierce the battle between body and soul, the sweeter the fruit…
