the lost man chronicles
book two: the art of love
a touch of the divine (appreciating Eve)
iíll admit, it is almost always (maybe even absolutely always) difficult to read in the presence of a pretty woman. and even before the lust begins and the imagination takes over, there is something there, directing your attention away from these more secular occupations.
perhaps, thatís it! quite simply, women are divine.
and thus, the closer She is to the aesthetic design of Eve which lies embedded in the genetic blueprint of every man, the greater us heathens are inclined to dole the attention She commands.
it is hard to explain the impulse otherwise. you know youíve been taught that it is impolite to stare but instinctively youíre prodded from within to glare, to glide along every curve, to give each curvature the visual ode (ogle) it deserves, the smile when she smiles even if she is not smiling at you, to make verse of every lithe gesture, every dark band of tress, every crevice and orifice of her gossamer summer dress suggesting, avowing, that She, in fact ,is a woman.
oh, and a word to the wise, do not despise this musing for its focus on what is so inextricably somatically endearing. for it is not meant, by any means, to belittle the general cognitive faculties of anyone otherwise. it is merely an earnest observation which attempts to be free of the fetters of contemporary moral postures, to be honest about the human condition without the imposition of chronocentric conditioning.
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