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I have always had fantasies of, wherever I was doing some serious, profession related activity (studying, working), the guy I'm seeing ((whoever he is at the time), will come over and have me somewhere in the facilities. It could be a broom closet, a bathroom, a classroom, a warehouse...
Like neither of us could wait any longer and just had to find somewhere to fuck each other. Currently I dream about doing it in the gallery storage room, which is full of art work...groping at clothes and hot skin, feeling our bodies against one another, standing up, smells of sex and aftershave, a slight hint of urgency...oh yeah.
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Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.
Fernando Pessoa, 1918
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