www.simoncollier.ca

The hills are small but panaramic and fully green, shaded by the grasses and hedgerows seperating fields. A large mass of clean blue water sits in the valley, rippled by the breeze and textured by the light gusts of air swirling around its surface.

On land stands a stone building. It has a bench seat at the front, inset slightly and beneath an overhang that shelters those sitting from the rain and wind. On the bench sits a solitary girl with dark, wavy hair hanging past her soulders and part-way down her back. She is thin and fragile, wearing a white french-style blouse with short-sleeves. She is sitting sideways with her feet up on the bench and her back leaning against the wall. Her head is leaning forward slightly, causing her hair to fall past her face and hide most of her expressions. She’s obviously very beautiful, but sitting defensively and appearing scared or in shock.

A man walks out of the door at the front of the building and turns to face the girl. He says something to her, the intonation sounds like a question but the words are quiety spoken and irrellevant.

She ignores him, her eyes half-open and staring down.

He repeats his question, a little louder and stepping closer to the girl.

He notices the girl is responding to the question, but very quietly; and her lips and hidden somewhat behind her hair.

The man steps closer, to hear what she is saying to him.

She repeats the same words, at the same volume. Her head is still bowed slightly and her voice momotone.

The man steps closer again to hear.

The girl leaps up unnaturally fast, her limbs barely moving. In an instant she is standing in front of him, her face inches from his and staring. Her eyes are wide and blue, or once were. They have no pupils, and the blue iris is clovered with white blotches that could be cataras, or burns, or something less natural.

She yells at him, screaming into his face with wide eyes showing the torture of a thousand souls.

“I CAN’T HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING, I CAN’T HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING, I CAN’T HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.”

There’s no feeling on Earth like two naked bodies touching.

It brings us to our essential and unhidden selves, where we are most vulnerable and most self-conscious.

It’s not easy to hide something when you’re naked, physically or emotionally. Unclothed, we are what we are, and nothing more.

Two bodies lying in bed, blurry-eyed and waking, are more comfortable with each other than at any other time. To hold a girl, lie with her and cuddle close, is incredibly relaxing. To move my hand over her body, move my fingers up her arm or around her back; to press against her and kiss her… it’s all beautiful.

To be comfortable with someone while you’re naked it to be truly comfortable with them. To touch them while they are naked is to truly touch them.

We are our simplest, truest, most honest selves when we are naked with someone. You’d think that’s how we were designed to be.

(Geeze… I need a girlfriend…)