Erotica – Sharing Mina

*** Thank you to AAG and Fleshbot for fleshbotting this post! ***

The idea had floated through my head unbidden, but landed and glued itself to my psyche. I could not stop thinking about it, and that is how the mission began. I want to see Mina with another person, but not just anyone. I had the image in my head, and she was on another woman, writhing, making that special roll with her hips I know so well, from when she has wrenched an orgasm off my body. The skin of her Sapphic lover was interrupted by dark strap, securing the object of Mina’s pleasure against her body, and she was arching under Mina, providing her body as well for her pleasure. Mina’s head rolled back, voice echoing off the ceiling as feminine hands cradled her breasts, granting that light, gentle touch her body had never known before tonight.

The images come to me like Soderbergh montage…

We are sitting a bar, nervously waiting, eyes scanning the room constantly

Back at our house, three of us, closing the door as She tossing her hair back as she sets her bag down inside the door.

She stands next to us, saying hello, and I introduce her to Mina, who is greeted with a hug, as Mina’s nervousness starts melting into excitment

She takes Mina’s hand and leads her to the bedroom, and I follow, her hands taking Mina’s hair from around her face and kissing her, lips parting, and Mina melting under her touch.

Those veiled moments at the bar, in a dark corner, her hand acting as a visor over her eyes, the distance between Mina and Her slowly shrinking, their alochol-perfumed breath mingling, the magnetism drawing them together

Mina’s clothes falling away, and Hers as well, the wonder in Mina’s eyes as she begins to touch Her, her hands enjoying the freedom of someone who craves her touch as well, getting to explore that body.

The first kiss in the bar, two intoxicated lips touching, Mina’s lips instantly part, the glint of her tongue’s piercing as it travels into Her mouth, and is then pushed back. The kisses back and forth, Mina’s hand on my thigh, squeezing as the excitment builds inside her. “Let’s go home.”

The shy awkwardness as She dons the strapon, and the smell of Mina’s wetness as She forced Mina to her knee to serve her cock. The way She bites her lip as Her mind goes into overdrive at Mina’s submission to her.

She and Mina in the back seat as I drive, the sound of kisses, and Mina’s moans as fingers travel up thighs and under shirts, and tongues seek out secret corners.

Mina swinging a thigh over Her, bracing herself on Her hips, and leaning over to take Her cock in, her drunk breath washing over Her as she moans. Her hands on Mina’s hips, guiding her at first, then simply enjoying her.

The final, groaning, screaming, shivering orgasm, the burst of sweat condenseing on Mina’s skin, and her body laying on limp on Her, as she settles in the afterglow, and my hands finally touching her, rubbing her back as she lies on the woman who gave her this wonderful, shuddering orgasm…

Give to get

As I drove home yesterday, my mind wandered. That happens a lot when you’re me, which you are fortunate enough not to be. My brain has always been like a squirming child in your arms, it never stops moving, never leaves me alone. I am always waiting to see what other path my grey matter will careen down this time, and it is something I have alarmingly little control over. Where was I? Oh, right, mind wandering. Ironic…

As I drove home yesterday, I was thinking about my relationship with Mina, and there is a certain confidence that I have in her. I know that Mina will deny me nothing in bed. There are items that have to be asked for the right way, but, I know that she will always do what she can to give me what I want. This stands in unbelievable contrast to my past, and it is something I still have to remind myself of, from time to time. It is hard to be with someone who is that generous when you’re used to…not that generous. In Mina’s case, it runs deeper than simple submission. In many times, simply being desired like that is itself a turn-on, and certainly enough that by the time things are moving she is every bit as in to it as I am.

When you come from a past where you are assessing a person’s mood, trying to figure out how far you can go right then, and advancing cautiously through the twisty, cobweb-ridden sexual hallway of another person’s psyche, the prospect of so generous a lover seems like pure heaven. But once you get that, you have to change, as well. When you spend your life used to the other person being the problem, you get the privilege of ignoring your own issues. Even if you want to concede that you have these issues because of the other person, they are still your issues.

The truth is that although I like to think I give Mina that same generosity, I haven’t quite rid myself of the hangups I picked up in my past. Some things I have closed myself off to. I have accepted, at a certain level, that Mina will fuck me, as in with a strapon or some such. Frankly, the idea does turn me on, (as does the idea of her giving it to another woman like that. Actually, that image is incredibly arousing for me, as I sit now and contemplate it. Perhaps even the reverse as well, and, as I keep thinking, I am liking the idea of several different positions. I’ll need to file this away…) though my body doesn’t seem to like it as much. As far as getting past the physical discomfort, well, I haven’t. At all.

I know Mina would love to share her submission with another Dominant. For me, the D/s aspect of our relationship is inextricably tied to sex, and I am a major stumbling block in that area. I know she would love to get fucked from both ends, her head hanging off the bed as she gets one cock down her throat and another in her pussy, and, there too I am the obstacle. (The truth is that the line of volunteers to help fuck Mina would stretch down the block if I ever started taking applications. Mina would disagree with this, of course.) And while none of these are things that she feels like she needs, I don’t take someone I love into my life to simply account for their needs. Being in love means granting their wants, too, and even their wishes. I want to make all of her dreams come true.

And, in that way, I have not measured up to the same standard that she has lived. I know that right now, I could walk into the bedroom where she is asleep, and enjoying her one late morning in bed, and decide that I want to fuck her ass. And, she would let me, as far as her body could stand. She would endure all the pain I cared to give her to grant my desire. Doesn’t a woman like that deserve the same effort from her man?

(As I close this post, I am imagining Mina riding the strapon of another woman, hands on her breasts, head tossed back and moaning as she grinds herself to orgasm on this woman, who is in turn taking her hands to every inch of Mina’s body, and it has me extremely aroused…perhaps there is an erotica post in the future. I had never really thought of this image till I mentioned it as a throwaway above, and I am now really enjoying it. The curse of a wandering mind…)

HNT~ Denim

Sylvanus is late with work tonight and so I have decided to do the HNT. You won’t get any fancy camera tricks.. just me and my Macbook. So what’s something you have never really seen Mina in? How about a good pair of jeans?

Not only do they look great.. but they go great with engagement rings! *wink*

Happy HNT!

…confessions

So what is a Dominant to do? Your sub writes a long, searingly honest post about her deepest fantasies, and you’re not in them. Particularly gnawing at me, as she talk about the theoretical pure dominant, was this passage:

Would he/she push me the way I need to be? Would he/she send me to the edge and push me even farther? Would he/she punish me for not doing as I’m told? Would he/she follow through on every desire no matter how dark they may be for me?

In some ways, it is impossible for me not to read a criticisms in these words. At the same time, the things that hurts the most, is the use of the word need. A need is not being met. It’s a pretty stinging thought. I know Mina took the time to write an additional comment, largely for my own sake, about what this post meant, about how this is a not a desire necessarily meant to be fulfilled, but at the same time, she reaching out for a need.

At the moment the post was written, and I was the first to read, I wrote my own comment, trying to get a sense of stability. We certainly talked about it that night, with a conversation that seemed to end on an ellipsis. I was surprised by her assumption that my fantasy life fixates on having a complimentary version of her own, on having “pure sub” of mine, when in fact I run in the opposite direction, if not the opposite extreme. In my case, that is not where my mind goes.

I lapsed a bit into explaining my personality. I am the type of person who likes to be really good at a lot of things, but I don’t really feel the need to be an expert at them. I prefer Renaissance Man as a kidn description, though “jack of all trades, master of none” is probably more apt. I enjoy my dominance, and any sex I have will have that flavor to it. I enjoy spanking her, I enjoy tying her up, and I enjoy them on their own. But, I am not, by nature, a pure dominant. I have to live with the things the dominant does the morning after. And in those moments, where she is obviously curling up, and obviously not happy with what is happening, I see the woman I love, who will still need to feel that love, instead of a bratty submissive in need of discipline.

My reactions the following morning were all over the place. I wanted to sulk. I wanted to give her the first caning of her life, and making sure that it fixated on the small of her back till it bled. I wanted to her to have a wound, not just a bruise, to last through her procedure next week, so that when she is lying on the table she will have that ache to concentrate on instead of what the doctors are doing. I wanted to beat this attitude out of her. But what was that, if not a reaction to her post? How is that really setting the table, and being the Dominant?

And then I think of the longer view, and of the interlopers who have crept into our life through the back door on Twitter, or email, or chat. Like C, like S, like Gabriel, who is no longer in our life. I see this need she articulated subconsciously reaching out, finding people who can give her that unfiltered Dominance. I think of her self-flagellation once she gets caught, and how she wonders out loud why she sabotages her relationships. I also wonder if this what our whole life has in store, peaceable life punctuated by bitter disappointments, and dark secrets being revealed.

But then, what if this is merely a way to provoke the Dominant? When she took her public collar off, she was rewarded with a brutal cropping. Even then, though, I was deeply conflicted administering it. The human wanted to reach out, to understand what was wrong, what I was failing to do, and the Dominant simply saw a submissive who needed discipline. That day, the Dominant won out, and I labored through the doubts tearing me up. I remember reading her post at her disappointment that her submission was being reduced to pain, and how it was about more than that. I tried, in the future, to focus on servitude more. I bought more weapons, and I have developed a great fondness for bondage tape, in fact.

But, in the end, I am what I am. I am someone who treasures the woman first. I read the work of other Dominants online, the ones who really push their subs, and I find myself repelled, not by their actions, but by their psychology. There is a mix between de-humanization and compartmentalization that my brain cannot comprehend. I can’t separate out the human from the submissive, and I cannot shut off my conscience and simply torture someone, nor can I find the desire to do so. I am not struggling with dark desires inside me, I am struggling with their absence.

There are things that I simply don’t crave. I don’t crave her ass. I’ve had it, and to me, anal sex is more about proving a point than that it is something I have a special enjoyment of. I don’t enjoy her humiliation. I don’t enjoy the things I think of as mine being shared with another. In the end, I cannot change the essence of my nature, and nor do I want to.

So, instead, I sit with an unsolvable problem. I envy her place in this in a lot of ways. I think it would be much easier to be the submissive, and simply have to not say no. It is a desperate high-wire act to be a dominant, to have to answer for her well-being, your satisfaction, and why the ideas were even in your head, and why they appealed to you. There is that confidence that you know what you are doing, and that ever-present risk of going too far, or getting that sarcastic snort of “Really? You want that?”. It always seems easier to be the one who just doesn’t say no.

When my fantasies center more on someone sexually aggressive, or who initiates the action with me, that is something she can easily fulfill, if she chooses, and something I could not fulfill with someone else, without devoting a lot of energy elsewhere. When her fantasies center on a ruthless Dominant, it is not something I can fulfill, because I have hit my limit, and I think she could more easily fulfill with someone else.

So what’s my confession?

That I am scared.

As a man, as dominant, as a fiancee, as everything I am, I am afraid to lose it all. I see danger in so many places, and I feel vulnerable. I feel threatened by her desires that I can’t fill, and threatened by what seems a world full of predators who would happily want to step in for me. I am afraid of the day the guy who is better than me finally comes along. I react with gut-twisting terror as other people clinically dissect our situation, and determine that, yep, she would need a proper dom to really fill these shadowy needs. I can see that I am not enough.

I make friends with the fear. It is part of me, it is part of what drives me. The fear will always be a part of me, as much as the love and the hope. After all, if I were not afraid to lose what I have, would it be worth having?

the theory of confession

I have a theory. It is my belief that a relationship develops according to how it is began. Need me to expand? We all know relationships come in many forms… friendships, lovers, spouses, siblings…. the list goes on. However, for this theory, I will use the D/s relationship.

I believe that a D/s relationship develops according to how it is formed. I believe there is a difference between when two people meet and grow as a couple first and then welcome D/s into their lives and the people who meet instantly as a couple in D/s. On the one hand you have a relationship that is formed out of love. Out of the simplicity of one person and another coming together and seeing if they can make a life together. On the other hand, you have two people who come together immediately as a couple in D/s.

Sylvanus and I are a couple formed out of love. I would describe our coming together as very much vanilla with a whole lot of kink mixed in. We came together as two people finding happiness with each other. All the basic vanilla things you can think of. Now, our sex life was more than vanilla, but the D/s wasn’t there from the beginning. In fact, it was I who came into the relationship with the D/s desires. I never knew if Sylvanus would be up for it.

As you, our readers know, he was up for it and he did grow into his role as a Dominant. I found myself sinking into place as his submissive. Together, we explored many things and became aware of many desires. Yet, there seems to be a road block somewhere…

Does deep love formed between two people before D/s is even a factor in their lives, affect the D/s when it is? It is with my experience, and I can only speak of my experience with this one relationship, that it certainly does.

Sylvanus finds himself unable to push me as is submissive at times. He finds himself unable to push me to the edge of my pain tolerance. Or he decides not to push a task onto me. There are many things that make Sylvanus hesitate. I guess you could say, he is not as strict with me as he could be.

I think love gets in the way.

I think that because the two of us came together as a vanilla couple first, it has made falling into our D/s roles very difficult. Almost unnatural. So I guess this must mean that we aren’t really suited for the D/s lifestyle? I don’t think so. We certainly have our moments where we clearly desire it from each other. We just have a hard time making it more of a lifestyle.

Then there is the other side of the coin. The side when two people meet under the parameters of a D/s relationship. When two people meet as a Dominant and a submissive from the very beginning. From there love and trust are formed and the D/s grows and flourishes. To me, there is a distinct difference between people who meet as a vanilla couple first and then welcome D/s into their lives and the people who meet under D/s and a loving relationship is formed from there.

The couple who meet in a D/s relationship first have grown together as Dominant and submissive. They have formed a love and a trust, a deep adoration for each other. It is much easier, I think, for a Dominant to be dominant with his submissive. Edges are pushed. Tasks undone are not left unpunished. Rules and actions are easily put into place. This thing called love, does not get in the way. No, this is a different kind of love. The love that is formed after the D/s, only strengthens the D/s even more.

Does this make any sense?

It does? Good… because now I have a confession.

I confess to the desire of wanting to know what it is like to meet someone purely on a D/s level.  To come together with another person and they are my Dominant and I their submissive. Nothing more, nothing less. Just plain and simple. What would the experience be like? Of course there will be trust and adoration.. maybe even some form of love. Let’s face it, I am not going to submit to just anyone. There has to be something there. But the parameter in which we meet are under Dominant and submissive. I am not his girlfriend nor his wife. I am the submissive.

What would it be like?

Would he/she push me the way I need to be? Would he/she send me to the edge and push me even farther? Would he/she punish me for not doing as I’m told? Would he/she follow through on every desire no matter how dark they may be for me?

These are all things I confess to being curious about. This inner and dark desire of things left to discover.

Be careful what you wish for.

I know that as much as I may fantasize about having a Dominant whose one desire is to dominate me, it is also the fantasy that scares me the most. I love Sylvanus for being the thoughtful and caring Dominant. I love that sometimes I can get away with not doing something. That if he senses I am not comfortable, he will back down just a little.

Experiencing a Dominant who just wishes to dominate me, could give me more than I was willing to ask for. I may not be able to stand up to the challenge. I may walk away from the experience a fallen angel. One left in shattered pieces, scrambling to collect the feathers.

Ahhh… this love … this ridiculous obsession with love… it changes everything doesn’t it?

HNT ~ Reversal

This week, Mina decided to take up station behind the lens, and share a bit of her life with our readers. For me, it was a unique experience being a model, and when the photographer is someone you are as intimate with as Mina, the experience is uniquely pleasurable. You can see the rest of her pics in the album here.

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HNT Gallery

Photography

Erotica – Edge

I was bathed in sterile green light of the kitchen, my mind a mile past the gleaming steel singing in my hand.

Over and over the sound rang off the ceramic walls, that metallic hiss and dull ring of the honing steel on my blade. Over and over I cruelly caressed the wicked edge of the knife, listening to the devil’s instrument playing an industrial symphony in the kitchen. Over and over I felt the two pieces of hardened steel ejecting every molecule not devoted to my purpose. Over and over I loving stroked the knife, hypnotized by the percussion.

The repetition slowly quieted the sentient voices in my head, and stilled the sounds of conflict. I honed the knife, and my spirit, to an invisible, ruthless tool of destruction. I dimmed the lights, and slipped into her bedroom, lighting a single candle as I sank naked into the shadows. I stared at the brilliant blade, and my own warped reflection in the dim orange glow. In the quiet darkness, my senses sharpened to match my knife. My ears picked up every squeak of a cricket, my eyes open, drinking in every detail of my victim’s room illuminated in the dim glow. I became the predator, unclothed and possessed.

Excuses

This post is by the “protective fiancee” of the author of this post.

Excuse \Ex*cuse”\, n. [Cf. F. excuse. See Excuse, v. t.]

1. The act of excusing, apologizing, exculpating, pardoning, releasing, and the like; acquittal; release; absolution; justification; extenuation.

2. That which is offered as a reason for being excused; a plea offered in extenuation of a fault or irregular deportment; apology; as, an excuse for neglect of duty; excuses for delay of payment.

3. That which excuses; that which extenuates or justifies a fault.

-Dictionary.net

I spend a lot of time making excuses for people. Much of it occurs during my job, when I am responsible for the work of many other people, and I find myself called onto some very thick carpet to answer for the brain-dead work of someone paid like, well, a brain-dead worker. I often find myself making for the person the whom I often make excuses to, as his careless personality drives my schedule all over the map. I make excuses for my friends, and why they disappoint me. Well, I did, until my divorce, and the growing, suffocating silence from the long list of people I had once thought of friends finally began to curd my breath. Somewhere, in my nature, I always want to think the best of people, even when they are drowning me.

Eventually, I learned some lessons. I have learned to expect less of people. There was a painful period where I was forced to confront the fact that people you get to know online cannot be expected to act like friends. Today, I simply accept it as a fact. I pay no attention to my following list on Twitter, and I take no offense to someone who doesn’t answer me. In the end, I invest no emotion, and I get the sort of return one would expect on that investment. (Though, as I think about it, I find myself starting to stray from this principle of late…) The only difference is that now I find myself considerably less disappointed at the same result than I used to be.

In that same vein, I make many excuses for Mina’s friends. Mina, to some extent, does not hold to my philosophy. Of course, she does not have the luxury that I have of near-constant interaction during her workday. Her job consumes six days a week and almost all of her energy, with only miniscule amounts of authentic interaction. So, for her, social networks like Twitter have always held more meaning, and she has reached out more than I have, and, in turn, gotten involved more than I have. And, in the natural turn that follows, has been disappointed far, far more than I have.

I have spent a lot of nights, and days, talking to Mina about the issues she articulated in the preceding post. In fact, I recognize much of it, chapter and verse, to the point where any commentary begins to seem redundant. I try to justify the various insults and injuries that her friends on Twitter blunder into. I explain that people can’t tell when you are online, that it is much easier to notice the presence than the absence of someone, that people online can never assume they are important to another, and so on and so forth. I hate to see her feelings hurt because someone else was only being a little thoughtless.

But time marches on, and the wounds begin to mount, and nerves wear raw. I can only spin so many excuses, before the simple concept that really isn’t that much to ask for can no longer be avoided. At some point, I can’t explain around the fact that most people simply don’t care enough to reach out. Most people simply aren’t wired that way. But we don’t want a life of mediocre, normal interactions. We want to feel special, just like everyone else.

And it’s hard to feel special like this.

I have often debated privately asking people to reach out to her, but she is too perceptive to be fooled by such an artless move. I take pains to represent her interests to others, and to stick up for my Little One. But, in the end, I cannot synthesize, nor can anyone else, emotions that simply aren’t there. If someone doesn’t care enough to find out what’s going on, or to pay attention, or simply to reach out and ask, I can’t make them care. And going through the motions simply isn’t good enough. And that’s really the sticking point.

There’s a lot of hurt in her words, and we have both been disregarded and taken for granted in our past, which is why we are islands in an apathetic ocean for each other. I do what I can on behalf of the rest of the world, but I can only justify faults so far.  I don’t write this as a plea for attention for ourselves. I write this as a plea for attention for all of your friends. Have you been the kind of friend you would want to have? Do others feel special because they know you?

Do you care, enough?

too much to ask

The problem with my career is it gives me too much insight. My job requires me to have an understanding of behavior at it’s most primal form. Though it is a blessing, it is also a curse.

I encounter a lot of disappointment daily when dealing with people. Perhaps ignorance is bliss?

I live by one simple statement, “actions speak louder than words.” I have learned extremely quickly that people talk a lot. I have let myself fall victim to promises and empty words. Words I held with much meaning, but soon came to find out, they meant nothing.

I also won’t let anyone promise me anything. I stop them. I won’t allow it and I will tell them not to promise. Promises were meant to be broken. I’d rather not be disappointed. If someone tells me they promise, I take it seriously. So, I have learned not to allow promises to be said. Even with Sylvanus. I won’t let him promise me anything. Will I tell people I promise? Yes I do actually, and when I say it I mean it.

I have a hard time understanding people’s actions when their words mean something different.

Don’t tell me I’m your best friend and not mean it. Don’t tell me you adore me and not mean it. Don’t tell me you love me when you don’t mean it! One of my 2009 resolutions has been to work on my friendships. There are too many friendships that I take for granted. Take C, for instance. He and I have been close friends for a long time now. Strangely enough he was the best friend of my first ex (all those years ago). He actually thought it was because of me that he and my now ex never hung out anymore. Once I set him straight, somehow, we developed a very close relationship. He has always brought me up when I was down. We have a deep understanding of each other. He’s the type of friend that if you don’t talk to for months, you can still pick up where you left off when you see each other again.

In any case, I have decided I need to spend more time “feeding” our friendship. So, when he texted me the other night with a simple hello, I answered him right away. Then a little bit of time passed. He asked me how I was. I told him about my recent trip to the dentist and ended with a bleh. More time passes. He answers with a chuckling understanding.  I ask him how he is and tell him what the date is for our wedding. He answers with a “sweet”. (I’m assuming that was “sweet” for the wedding day.) I then decide to give him TMI and let him in on the biopsy and the results. He’s my good friend and I know anything about my health would be of concern to him. I admit to being a little dramatic by telling him I have precancerous cells and I am having cryoSURGERY. His reply? There was none. Never. Not even today. Not even after I sent him a text telling him I emailed him a link to the pictures of the New Years party we attended. He answered with an awesome and that was it.

WTF?

Look, I don’t expect people to be available for a chat 24/7, but can you express some common courtesy here? Can you at least tell me, hey, work got busy, we’ll chat later? I don’t understand why he would start a conversation with me when he clearly didn’t have the time to chat. The delay in his responses was a clear indication. I also don’t understand why my telling him about my cryotherapy never got a reply. I guess that kind of stung.

Is it not enough to have people act on their own accord? Is it too much to ask that I not have to tell you what I want you to do all the time? Do I need to tell you how to act or what to do with me? This is one of the reasons why Sylvanus and myself get along so great. We don’t need to tell the other what to do. We just naturally know.  We pretty much think about each other all the time.

Having to tell someone how to act, doesn’t work for me. It was one of the BIG reasons I left my last ex. I started having desires, deviant desires, during our relationship. I wanted to be tied up and spanked. I wanted to be roughed up a bit. Him? He wasn’t into that and had the nerve to tell me it’s fake and not me. But beyond that, telling him what to do just made the relationship crumble. Sure I can tell him how to touch me, what to do here, what to say there… but does that really make things right? I think not. Having someone go through the motions because that’s what I asked them to do, is simply that, going through the motions.  There isn’t this natural desire nor passion to do so because they want to. Granted, there is a huge difference between telling someone what you would like and they get into it and never forget and things expand from there. I’m talking about telling someone what you would like from them and they do it once and things kind of stop there. They don’t get the hint. They naturally do not have that drive.

I guess the bottom line is, I would like to have people in my life that take the initiative. Is it always up to me to reach out? If someone only talks to me when I reach out to them, is it not reasonable that I may want to stand back and see what they will do? Is it too much to ask that if someone notices my absence that they tell me they did? Is it too much to ask that if you tell me you like me, that you act like it, without me telling you how to act like it? I think someone who truly likes you, doesn’t need to be told how to act, they just do.

I’ll end this rant with another example. Months ago, I came across a girl on the net. We named her Petra. She and I flirted a bit and one day we pretty much had a full blown cyber session. For the first time ever, I had real feelings for another girl. I was crushing on her big time. We meshed well together. (As well as two people can over the net). After the first day of our interaction, I sent her an email, asking her some questions. I also noticed that during that same evening, she never reached out to me to say hello. To make this story short, for every email sent, I got no reply. She rarely contacted me at all in the evenings or on weekends. But during the work day, the internet was flamed by our flirtation. She admitted that this was the first time she had been sexually excited about another woman and she was a little scared by it. I backed off a bit and gave her space. Still no communication came. She continued to want to play during the work day, but I began feeling used and slowly my crush faded to disappointment. Eventually, her desk was moved to an open space in the office where anyone could see her screen. Our IMs stopped because she couldn’t sign in anymore. I have never heard from her since. At least she was kind enough to tell me that she would be vacant from the computer. I miss her still. I really liked her. I still think about her. Sometimes, I want to send her an email, badly. But I don’t. Why you ask? Why should I open that wound again? I don’t want to send her another email that will go unanswered. I don’t want to open up the chance of something and be disappointed once more. If you truly like someone, you make time for them and you try to contact them whenever you can.

Time’s Arrow

In the natural sciences, arrow of time, or time’s arrow, is a term coined in 1927 by British astronomer Arthur Eddington used to distinguish a direction of time on a four-dimensional relativistic map of the world, which, according to Eddington, can be determined by a study of organizations of atoms, molecules, and bodies.

-Wikipedia

I’m sure that was really enlightening. Of course, for those readers without graduate degrees in natural sciences, it was probably pretty dense. It simplifies to this: Time goes one way, and one way only. You know, intuitively which way that is, since it is impossible to hide when something is backwards. Times change, and change irrevocably. The things that are in the past, always will be.

Once upon time, Mina and I were discussing the possibility of starting a blog together while we were burning through a Sunday at her office. As I sat down to assemble the blog, I had a plan. The first idea was going to be composing all of our images in sepia. From there came the theme to the blog’s design, the color of our fonts when we posted, and everything else about our “look.”

Somewhere, though, in our second year, sepia, somehow, finally, got boring. That yellow tone can only take you so far. I also got a new camera. From the new camera came color photos, from the color photos came a series of leaps in my technique, from those leaps came a new graphical philosophy. Eventually, as I have decided to move on. Our lovely, sentimental sepia page is now gone forever. And today we unveil the new, “we love color” version of our blog. We hope you enjoy it.