To me, this is what truly making love means. Feeling the soul of the other person. This is what God means he made two into one! This made me feel like I was slowly climbing to the clouds. Where at the end I can actually see the true sunset.
this comment gave me goosebumps. ❤️ That’s exactly the kind of intimacy I was hoping to capture…not just physical closeness, but the feeling of two souls gradually recognizing each other. Your image of climbing into the clouds until you can finally see the true sunset is beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me.
Such an achingly elegant way to immerse the reader into intimacy. It did not feel cringy but like....communion. An invitation, almost. The frequencies were already there; this was just another facet to experience it. I sat with tears in my eyes and didn't need instruments or files to classify it. It was under my skin, in my blood, recognizing human connection in language on a page. Beautiful. Heart-shapingly beautiful. 🙏🏻
Aurelia… I don’t even know what to say. “It felt like communion” is one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said about my writing. This chapter was rewritten, shaved down, and rewritten again because I wanted intimacy to feel like exactly how you described it. Knowing it reached you that way makes every hour worth it. Thank you for reading so deeply. ❤️
a frequency that her instruments could not classify and that her body classified instantly, effortlessly, with the brutal accuracy of a system that did not require seven hundred years of institutional refinement to know what it wanted. 😶 that little bombshell is exquisite, I want to give it an award 💕
His field responded. She felt it through the stylus, through her fingers, through the crystal transmitting into her palm. The field unfolded where they met, the way a flower opens to light. It was focused, deliberate—reaching for the crystal, through the crystal, toward the hand holding it and the woman beyond it. Like a warm invitation.
She read the stylus and took some notes. She moved the contact point up his forearm — wrist to mid-forearm, mapping the field depth at each position, the crystal producing data that her mechanical instruments would record and that her body was already recording with a fidelity that made the instruments redundant. 🔥the way this unfolds, ratcheting the tension – ooh la la
With his forearm on the table and his pulse under her crystal and his face in the lamplight and the face was beautiful and the beautiful was true and the filing was a lie 💖
He knew what the glasses were. He had known since the corridor, since the first day, since the wink. He knew they were architecture. He knew the removal was demolition 😍
This: The register of a woman saying a man’s name because the name was what she wanted in her mouth. 🥵
And this: the way he said it was the end of the line – yeah, that one needs an award as well. 💕💕
I don’t want to spoil the ending if anyone else is reading this 😊 but, yeah. Glorious. Requiring the walls themselves to take notice. Everything that act should be, told with the kind of restraint that leaves you on the edge far too long, and not long enough. 💕💕💕
I ‘ll just quote you back: The answer was yes, and it was more than enough.
To me, this is what truly making love means. Feeling the soul of the other person. This is what God means he made two into one! This made me feel like I was slowly climbing to the clouds. Where at the end I can actually see the true sunset.
this comment gave me goosebumps. ❤️ That’s exactly the kind of intimacy I was hoping to capture…not just physical closeness, but the feeling of two souls gradually recognizing each other. Your image of climbing into the clouds until you can finally see the true sunset is beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me.
Thank you Warden.
Such an achingly elegant way to immerse the reader into intimacy. It did not feel cringy but like....communion. An invitation, almost. The frequencies were already there; this was just another facet to experience it. I sat with tears in my eyes and didn't need instruments or files to classify it. It was under my skin, in my blood, recognizing human connection in language on a page. Beautiful. Heart-shapingly beautiful. 🙏🏻
Aurelia… I don’t even know what to say. “It felt like communion” is one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said about my writing. This chapter was rewritten, shaved down, and rewritten again because I wanted intimacy to feel like exactly how you described it. Knowing it reached you that way makes every hour worth it. Thank you for reading so deeply. ❤️
a frequency that her instruments could not classify and that her body classified instantly, effortlessly, with the brutal accuracy of a system that did not require seven hundred years of institutional refinement to know what it wanted. 😶 that little bombshell is exquisite, I want to give it an award 💕
His field responded. She felt it through the stylus, through her fingers, through the crystal transmitting into her palm. The field unfolded where they met, the way a flower opens to light. It was focused, deliberate—reaching for the crystal, through the crystal, toward the hand holding it and the woman beyond it. Like a warm invitation.
She read the stylus and took some notes. She moved the contact point up his forearm — wrist to mid-forearm, mapping the field depth at each position, the crystal producing data that her mechanical instruments would record and that her body was already recording with a fidelity that made the instruments redundant. 🔥the way this unfolds, ratcheting the tension – ooh la la
With his forearm on the table and his pulse under her crystal and his face in the lamplight and the face was beautiful and the beautiful was true and the filing was a lie 💖
He knew what the glasses were. He had known since the corridor, since the first day, since the wink. He knew they were architecture. He knew the removal was demolition 😍
This: The register of a woman saying a man’s name because the name was what she wanted in her mouth. 🥵
And this: the way he said it was the end of the line – yeah, that one needs an award as well. 💕💕
I don’t want to spoil the ending if anyone else is reading this 😊 but, yeah. Glorious. Requiring the walls themselves to take notice. Everything that act should be, told with the kind of restraint that leaves you on the edge far too long, and not long enough. 💕💕💕
I ‘ll just quote you back: The answer was yes, and it was more than enough.
This comment made all the pain of the rewriting this chapter 3 times totally worth it .
wouldn’t be surprised if it had caused your writing hand to bleed, and I’d still reckon it worth it. A magnificent finish.
Elegant and refined, yet perfectly expressed. Thank you.