Part III: Beyond the Cage

I didn’t experience his hands as hands. I experienced them as movement—like color being drawn through me. As if he were finger-painting just above my skin, and my body somehow knew how to follow the lines. Every slow pass left a trace I could still feel, the way light lingers behind your eyes after you close them.

don’t date to escape loneliness. I don’t date to fill gaps. I don’t date because something is missing. I date to grow — to let my heart stretch, to let my universe widen. That’s why I’m selective. My life is already a garden. My marriage is already a home. My erotic energy is something I steward for a living — tenderly, intentionally, never carelessly. So when someone asks me out, it has to matter.

Missing someone is the way my body honors connection — a soft, lingering tether that says you mattered here, even after the moment has passe

A reflection on heartbreak, self-worth, non-monogamy, and choosing yourself with intention.

A poetic reflection on love, longing, and the ache of visibility in open relationships. When freedom and attachment collide, what parts of us awaken?

Sometimes the hardest part of new love isn’t the waiting—it’s the wondering: will he still see me, even when the evidence of other lovers lives on my skin?

Kink feels like reverence. Swinging feels like hedonism. This is why I’ll always choose worship over the numbers game.

The moment it becomes a demand, I shut down entirely

Walking through a hotel lobby, I sometimes wonder: what story are strangers writing about me? Yoga teacher? Muse? Mistress? The real story is always stranger — and softer — than the projection.

A deeply personal reflection on the sacred, erotic, and profoundly healing nature of Neo-Tantra sessions—where clients become lovers, energy becomes intimacy, and trust becomes transformation. This is not sex work. This is soul work.

The magic of a kiss isn’t in the touch—it’s in the ache before it.