whatiwas

The feeling begins at the junction between leg and pubis, sheathing the pulse in that kind of warmth that oozes rather than soothes, saturating nerve endings with an inescapable stickiness. It starts from there, hot and awful, and spreads over the length of the epidermis, culminating at the face, not even the face but simply the places where the skin folds and catches from overuse, repaying a lifetime of expressions with places for the feeling to take hold. Every smile, every twitch and tic becomes encumbered with that other one, warm, wet, dirty and ugly and so far from the spasm the very thought it it seems like heresy.