HeleneBrutger

My name is Sana. I am 18, and in me - the fire of the East. My skin is like warm honey, my eyes are black, deep, like a night without a moon. I know how they look at me. I feel it with skin, with my back, breathing. I love long evenings when the heat leaves, and the city breathes slowly. Hair falls on the shoulders, whisper on the skin, and I go - softly, confidently, as if the whole space around belongs to me. I can be gentle and wild, dreamy and impudent. My beauty is not in makeup - it is in motion, in my eyes, in the silence between words. I am not a mystery. I am a desire that can not always be understood, but I want to solve it. My name is Sana. And I'm not afraid that they will remember me for a long time. I like it when the evening stretches slowly. When I have only a thin shirt on me, and I am sitting by the window with a book, and the wind plays with my hair. I like to feel - how the skin reacts to a light cold, how the inner heat wakes up from one glance, from thought, from memory I love when it all starts without words - only a pause, breathing and approach. When the fingers concern uncertain. I don't like falsehood. I recognize her right away - by voice, by gaze, by touch, which does not feel, and simply concerns. A rush repels me - when everything is "faster", "in short", "Come on." No. I am not a moment, not a checkbox on someone's list I don't like the cold - in words, in my hands, in intentions. I do not like it when they try to break or tame me. I'm not a thing. I am a desire, c.