Owl's Nest

in light of the obvious eroticism of scars I do not think we discuss enough the eroticism of having been the one to piece someone back together. of looking at them and knowing that they will always bear the marks of your work, every time their heart beats and their lungs draw breath, bc YOU stitched them back together. you cheated fate and you crafted a miracle out of your own two hands and a pile of their viscera, and they’ll forever be the living proof of it. they are perfect, from their bones to their guts to their skin, and you made them this way; it feels like blasphemy, like getting away with something to be able to lay claim to their perfection like this. like I’m just saying.

Art Nouveau “Wood-Anemone” pendant by René Lalique in gold, diamond, enamel and glass‚ circa 1905.