Dotwork portrait. Happy women's day, we can do it! đȘđ»
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from China

seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from T1
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from Singapore
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from France
Dotwork portrait. Happy women's day, we can do it! đȘđ»

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Sobre Lineas, Promesas y Silencios
A veces creo que por ahĂ vos me hiciste una promesa silenciosa, y sin buscarla en ese silencio yo la encontrĂ©. Decirte que la escuchĂ© serĂa mentirte, pero de alguna forma la sentĂ. QuizĂĄs no era una promesa a mĂ, quizĂĄs te estabas haciendo una promesa a vos mismo. No sĂ© cĂłmo, pero ahora al mirarte a los ojos si me decĂs que no me querĂ©s, yo no escucho mĂĄs que esa promesa y sĂ© que es una mentira. La promesa o tus palabras, pero una es mentira y la promesa no lo puede ser. Y no voy a poder creerte nunca que tu mentira sea que mi ausencia te hace bien. Cuando tenĂa catorce años fui a una clase de dibujo. Mi profesor me enseñó que antes de pintar algo hay que dibujar unas lĂneas invisibles. Las lĂneas invisibles se crean cuando el lĂĄpiz toca apenas la hoja, cuando la acaricia casi sin sentirla. Para el espectador las lĂneas invisibles no existen, pero para el artista son la estructura principal de una obra de arte y puede verlas con toda claridad. Mi profesor me habĂa dicho que mis lĂneas invisibles eran perfectas, curiosamente esa delicada estructura casi impalpable es lo que mejor podĂa lograr esta torpe y desestructurada mano. A veces lo pienso y me doy cuenta que yo tambiĂ©n te hice una promesa silenciosa, y buscĂĄndola en ese silencio no sĂ© si la pudiste encontrar. Decirte que te la dije serĂa mentirte, pero de alguna forma te la quise hacer sentir. QuizĂĄs no era una promesa para vos, quizĂĄs me lo estaba prometiendo a mĂ misma. No sĂ© cĂłmo, pero ahora al mirarte a los ojos no te la puedo dejar de gritar, y no sĂ© si en mi mirada vos podĂ©s escucharla. Solo espero que no puedas creerme nunca que mi mentira sea que tu ausencia me hace bien. Cuando me acuesto a tu lado en la cama, y te acaricio casi sin tocarte, dibujo esas lĂneas invisibles. Yo no sĂ© si lo hago porque es la fina estructura que anticipa la obra de arte que es tocarte, pero me gusta pensar que sĂ. Te dibujo el pecho, los brazos, las piernas, te dibujo en el aire antes de dibujarte con mis labios. Vos quizĂĄs las sentĂs apenas, o quizĂĄs las sentĂs como el papel siente con toda fuerza que esas lĂneas son el comienzo de algo. Pero yo las siento con el cuidado y la exactitud del artista, saboreando cada segundo que mi dedo se despega del aire para acariciar tu piel. Y eso tambiĂ©n es lo que mejor sabe hacer este torpe y desestructurado corazĂłn.
-S.M.
Hello, my name is Sofia. My favourite colour keeps changing but right now I'd go for dark blue. Favourite ship? Maga and Horacio Oliveira (Rayuela - Julio Cortazar). My favorite ice cream is raspberry and cream. And my dad doesn't like cats so we never had one.
WAIT WHERE IS THAT SHIP FROM? I hope yâall had some other pets though!
A New Set of Lungs
The inches that just moments ago invited us to come closer, now stretch to blocks. Me, lying in my bed, alone. You, lying in your bed, alone. And even now, that only a few blocks separate us like they have been doing for years, I start to feel these blocks stretching too. Narrow streets of a nice suburb become busy avenues, and those avenues turn into long routes that lead to different destinations. I can feel, beyond that which physically separates me from you, rivers and forests standing between us. I hear the cars, rather than through the distance I hear them over time, they make a journey that only used to take the courage of my hand reaching towards your chest. And it is your relentless cowardice that keeps us from each other and separates us. I have my heart in my hands, and my hands are outstretched towards you, while you tell me how youâre going to trade it with the devil for another set of lungs. That is what you did with yours, another liver is what you got from the deal, knowing that with or without a heart your lack of courage was always going to drown you in a bottle. Through your veins there always runs a little vodka, a little whiskey, a little wine. Through your veins, like routes easier to travel than the ones that stretch between us even today that all is well, I also run. I run and I search for you, for that spark of wild fire that I can feel dying off. You may think that is how you keep yourself alive, that choosing a life of unconsciousness will keep you at the peak of madness. But the real madness is love, you cannot live if youâre not vulnerable to life, thatâs just how it works. The untouchable aren't really alive, for not even life knows how to touch them. -S.M.