*Please have a moment to get inside the scenario by listening to the song On The Nature Of Daylight by Max Ritcher ([spotify link here](https://open.spotify.com/track/56oReVXIfUO9xkX7pHmEU0?si=UnV5oE6lR7yalwNHmwWVqg))
Thank you and enjoy*
…
I was lost in my thoughts trying to replay how every brushstroke in the paiting I was seeing was made by the painter, picturing the way his hands moved, wondering.
*Was he gentle? Was he angry? Was he sad? Was he… in love?*
Everything seemed possible, it was such a magnificent piece and I was completely mesmerized by its beauty. I wanted to go back in time and meet the painter. That’s when I felt someone getting closer to me, I could feel him breathing against my neck.
I just stood still and he whispered:
“In each movement that I made with the brush, each brushstroke I did it thinking about how I would like to caress your skin if I had you in front of me. How I would gently touch your soft skin with the tips of my fingers, how I would make you shiver under my touch, and I know you can feel that, my love”