If this were to disappear, all of this sensual world, what would we become?
If the excitement of your caresses were to become impossible, would you love me less? Would you be here still to kiss me, even in the absence of skin, the responses now different, wiser if changed by time and weather, seasons passing, the imperfections even of this oasis, where nothing bad was ever supposed to happen?
Or would it disappear, our world only fantasy? Would you want to stay where life is still real, and not perfect, no, but not without its beauty?