… the better to see you, my dear
my hand sunk into the chest, as if through the flesh, swallowed up in a soft warm nothingness and everythingness.
i was uncomfortable at first… i recoiled… i had to force myself back in – back open – and then it felt like a gift; the offer of time and the holding of space.
“You are a goddess”
That is what i heard in hushed tones as i held on and cried… as spirits around us practiced energy work while other chattered away over the remains of potluck.
“I make some women cry” came with a smile, “because I see the beauty in them”
i stayed there for awhile and then took my volunteer shift before evening fell, bringing with it pleasure and pain and oh-so-much pyro. There was music too… some soft and soothing, some pounding and primal, and then? There was silly music like this (it made for a very interesting scene):
The Hustle (Van McCoy)