The afternoon outlined. The sunny strokes of a samurai blade on her body revealing things the eyes feign see. Tempted, wounded, the virgin parchment floats between her skin and satin cloak. Artist; afternoon, craving company draws her inside-out so innocently, on purpose leaves the yolk indwelling. The painter in the corner moans, he jealous of the afternoons artly sensual oration. Improving skin, bare olive tones of subtle pastel, the moment partly lost to the constellations.