Like exploring the texture of things —I love touching things, touching things and tapping into sensations.

I love noticing things —like when my sensitivity is heightened, or where in my body certain demons are buried.

I love noticing what wants to be noticed.

I love the softness of things and when soft things become more domineering —like after a wax when any hint of fabric against my skin drives me wild.

I love when my arousal takes up more space than usual and the way it feels when that line in the middle, the one that makes them pants, I love when it touches my lips and clit. I love the sensation of a little pressure from the fabric.

And I love myself —more softly now, and as consistently as I can. I love myself like a quiet revolution.