MlleVennes

As the summer came to it's close, I knew. I had it in my calendar, a plane to take on a Monday, back to a city that echoed slightly too loudly of concrete, footsteps just a little too quick for a lot of the wrong reasons.         Some flights feel a lot like taking a step back. And since I love to dance, I know that's not necessarily a bad thing. YULanded, then took a cab home. Caught an East coast sunset. It felt a bit off, and not just cause it was three hours too early. Not just cause I felt three hours too late. I woke up in sheets that used to be mine, in a room where I still paid rent, and the things that felt right were sweet - but I had a mountain-shaped hole in my heart. 9 days later, I was back. YUL - checked my bag and I felt lifted.        Some flights just feel like coming home. I've been here for a while now and it's starting to feel more and more like I'm growing roots. It's strange how being on vacation makes the hai...

or how masturbation is an act of self love a photo essay by me (because language has limitations that sensuality ignores)

This weekend, I left everything behind.  My computer stuck in a drawer somewhere, I camped off in Port Alberni for three days. The clouds tenderly caressed the mountains, and all around, the trees and ocean whispered sweet nothings. I took time to think. Coming back on the ferry, I knew what I wanted. I had already made a phone call to a downtown massage parlor, all female run and operated according to the website. "All female run and operated as far as I know." said the girl who answered the door. Stepped in, started filling in an application form. She filled me in on a few other details, including the fact that there was a dress code. Sexy dresses, and heavy make up on the eyes or lips - but not both. Heels were to be worn at all times, even when no one else was around, she insisted, her lilac acrylic nails dancing on her clipboard. I hesitated. Looked down at my Birkenstock sandals. My carefully pedicured feet, the same feet that carried me acr...

There's a shiver at dawn, a little shimmer on the surface of reality. The world is still silent, save for a murmur of breath by your side. Warmth of the covers, your lover's leg brushing up against yours.  There's a beauty in stepping silently out of bed, putting water to boil while the sun rises - looking tenderly to a sleeping face amidst the covers. Shared mornings are an invitation to take on the world together, just for a bit. The potential alone electrifies me, exciting to the extreme. There's temptation, before taking it on, to curl up and cuddle for a while. There's a beauty in breakfast in bed, jazz lazily floating through the air and fingertips dancing... Just five more minutes