They dream of men with gentle hands, eloquent with tenderness, fingers that brushed along a cheek, that outlined open lips in the lovers’ braille. Hands that sculpted sweetness from sullen flesh, that traced breast and ignited hips, opening, kneading. Flesh becomes bread in the heat of those hands, braided and rising.”
-Janet Fitch
With words such as this, who couldn’t love books? One of the best vacations I ever took was a week at a condo on the Gulf of Mexico. Walks in the morning along the ocean. Coffee on the balcony overlooking the water. Riding a beach cruiser bike to the local market to buy fresh fish for dinner. My chair in the sand, a big umbrella for shade, a cooler full of Negra Modelo or spritzers. And books. Lots and lots of books. I sat on the beach, sipped my drink, and read an entire novel every day.
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