I am the eternal keepsake of your memories, a reflection of many faces, many places, of lands far and exotic. Each glance, bold or shy, paints a portrait, each pose a picture of a mood, a whim. When you step into my indoor boudoir, your body becomes my possession. A treasure to keep in a trinket box. A territory to photograph, but never fully map. I have watched so many journeys through my cool surface of polished glass, followed the stories in your eyes, the sinuous movements of your bodies. I envy the lens that caresses you with each subtle click. Envy the sheer fabric that hugs your spun-silk skin and the alluring curves of your flesh. I do not need to hear your voices. I do not need to catch of whisper of your perfume. I only need to capture you within my reflection. Silently, I witness you blossom. You are petals opening to the sun or thirst-quenching rain. Reveling in your femininity, devoid of inhibitions, onion layers of the soul reveal themselves. You are like explorers, tributes to those who crossed vast oceans and trekked across the continents, explorers forever wandering, forever discovering the wonder that is… you.
Reflective musings on black and white boudoir by Diana Kemp (dianakemp.com)
Location: Denver, Colorado.Keywords: black and white boudoir (41).
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