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Haul of glasses
I look at myself in the mirror, adjusting my glasses with fingers encased in black leather. the contrast between the cold glass and the heat trapped in my gloves makes me shudder.i tilt my face, letting the light slide down the frame. i lower my glasses just a little, revealing a flash of my eyes. a subtle touch of leather, a whisper of suppressed desire.i play with the gloves, with the glasses, with the silent provocation of each gesture. the elegance of the leather, the shadow of the lenses… and the invitation to imagine what lies behind.
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