This is my studio for exploring my work. Consider these drafts.

Her fingers are trained

Her fingers are trained and her mind is left to wander. To what she has just written. Not one strand of tobacco is lost to the floor despite her faraway thoughts. I cannot make out the words on her typewritten page, but that kind of clarity is unnecessary, even for a voyeur of my dedication. You will guess perhaps that that is because my focus is only concerned with her shirt parted, her delicate bra, her delicate breasts. Now that you mention it…

by Balthazar Simões