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 hair on the back o

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