Letter to Another Photographer’s Muse
By now, you should have received a print of one of my images in the mail. The print is a gift from Balthazar, though I must confess, I too wanted you to have it for personal reasons. You see, I have been catching glimpses of you for some time now: I have seen the contour of your breasts under the dim lights of your room; the shape of your hips delineated by your delicate underwear; the flesh of your lips, slightly parted as you face away from the camera. Despite having seen you like that, I have always yearned for more. There always seems to be a garment covering what it should not be covering; an object casting a shadow in the wrong place; a leg or an arm blocking my view. In light of this situation, I decided to come up with a plan.
You know how some cultures believe that a part of your soul is captured by the camera when someone takes a picture of you? I would like to think that is true. Because if that is indeed the case, then that means that a part of me is present in the photo I sent you. It means that through it, I can transport myself to your bedroom, your bathroom, your kitchen. If you also believe this to be true, then I trust that one day you will acquiesce to my desire: you will take my image with you and lock yourself in a private place; then, you will proceed to undress in front of it (slowly, taking your time); with your legs spread open, you will remain motionless in front of my image for a few minutes so that I may contemplate your coñito in its full splendor; when you are ready, you will touch yourself, slowly at first, and then more vigorously, climbing that ladder until you find release. When that happens, know that I will be smiling (and slightly out of breath) somewhere, perhaps not that far away.