I. Don’t. Know. You.
I wasn’t looking for you. I found you during a Web search for one of my many friends. Now I’ve seen you — far more of you than I, who am not your husband, should have seen.
Did you mean to look sad? Perhaps you were trying to look seductive or at least inviting, kneeling upright there in the grass.
But what’s striking and attention-grabbing to me is your face, not the rest of your body. You look sad, T. (I’d make this even more personal by using your name, but then I would be helping the curious and the perverts to find you.)
Do you look sad because you know…
- you are giving away your “scenic views” so cheaply?
- you have little prime “real estate” left covered and unexploited?
- you are demeaning yourself for little return?
- you two have turned you into mere eye candy for lustful men?
- you won’t get the affection your soul craves?
- you should be protecting your modesty and your value?
- the photographer should have protected your modesty and your value?
Or is the sad face your attempt to sear an unspoken truth into the eyes and conscience of the photog and all other lookers? Read it all