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I’ve always conceived life as a form of art.  Art not intended as something beautiful, but as a creation process.  This personal approach regards every feature of life. From the simplest ones to the most important ones. Cooking or writing a piece, putting on my make up or educating my children are all creation processes for me. Sex included.
My idea of sex has nothing to do with extemporary outlets of passion (or instinct). Sex for me is the yearning for a person, it is trying to reach the real essence of that person who turns my imagination on. Sex as a sublime expression of attraction.
Two artists (lovers) involved in an osmosis  of feelings. A skin to skin stream from heart and soul passing through pores. Lips, fingers, hips, thighs not just moving but creating a new language.
Surely anatomy plays a great role and affects behaviours. So evident and external is men’s sexuality, so secret and hidden is women’s one. Opposite and complementary. The real  creation process starts from here. It starts from comprehending differences and enhancing each one’s peculiarity, then finding together the way to pleasure.
This way hands are not just hands but are tools that model desire and passion, a touch is not just a touch but it’s a new word written in lovers’ secret book.
Maybe I’m a pretentious lover as I’m a pretentious writer, but life is art, sex is a part of life, sex is art.

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