Boy oh boy
“Men are visual,” he says, a casual phrase meant to unlock the boundary of her body, to claim it for his wandering gaze. Visual, yes—and entirely blind. After a few years, she thought she was merely objecting to his arrogance, to the shallowness of his being. But there was a lesson in this: his short-sightedness robbed him of something invaluable. Connection cannot survive in the absence of emotion and respect. And it would be left up to her to let this lesson land. Yes, see! But look past her soft curves into her eyes. See the lines gathered there, the evidence of laughter, grief, longing, of desires too deeply lived to be hidden. Read the story written in those eyes—as epic as the Odyssey. For she, too, crossed oceans, living in self-imposed exile from home soil for years in search of her truth. She battled demons and had to resist sirens to save her soul, failed at times, and watched her soul become soiled by ugliness in the guise of desire. Look at her mouth, but listen to ...
