Sensuality
Soul Journal is a record of sensual adventures.
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There is a particular kind of intimacy that only arrives with winter. The world quiets, the nights stretch. And somewhere between dusk and dawn, the bed becomes a landscape of longing—of warmth, breath, and slow-drifting dreams. Enter: flannel sheets. Not the scratchy, inexpensive kind. I mean the good ones. Brushed cotton with a weight that
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The wind tugs at my skirt and blows its cold breath up my legs, making the bare skin above my stockings tingle. There is a brief reprise in the downpour, and I take the opportunity to dash from the office to a nearby café.
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I sniff my arm, investigating, and realise that I can smell my recent lover on my forearm.
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Have you ever picked up on that undertone of eroticism when in the company of others?
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“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” His deep voice immediately brings to mind the word sultry.
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I stand at his kitchen island, wearing his slippers and a white v neck tee.
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I hold the egg in the middle of my palm. The smooth, brown shell and cool weight is pleasing to the senses.
Soul Journal 