talk. touch. f*#k.
notes on connection
At a recent event, touch came before talking. I approached someone slowly, pausing a few feet away. They met my gaze. Nodded. I nuzzled into their shoulder.
What a relief!
There were no words. No pauses. A safe and easy connection.
I squeezed their arm and separated into the crowd.
I want more of this. Hold my hand, dance me slowly. Then I’ll know
if I want to hear your stories.
We are taught to talk, then touch, then f*#k. Starting this ladder tires me.
You are saying all these things, but why?
Touch can be a lie, but it never lies.
Which is to say - your intensions may be confused, but I am not.
When you touch me, I know what your truth is.
I lack this inner knowing when you speak.
Touch me first. Words can wait for the second date.
Vancouver, Oct 2025