I like the moment where hair becomes a liability. Where it sticks to foreheads and temples, where it slides and clings between fingers. I like the fact that somehow we want to get barer, to shed just another hindrance until it is us at our most basic and needy.
I like the shoving of limbs that comes with that. The folding them up and the stretching them wide. Suddenly, even the most essential things have suddenly become dispensable, excessive. At one point, they were the very things we caressed, lingered on, drew from them painstaking and labored admissions of desire. And, now, like our clothes, we attempt to toss them aside.
It’s interesting to me that for how extensive foreplay and physical upkeep can be, for how much we know prolonging and lingering enhances this, our bodies creep toward a singleminded desire, removing the excess and diving forth into the necessary.