[…] I noticed a peculiar fluttering amongst the girls. On inquiring the reason of their mysterious gigglings and smirkings, I found that there was to be a wedding.

The leaves of the trees filtered the light.

He was filled with the presexual rush of affection that felt like love […]

Lying on, in, under her, I pore with squinnying eyes on a mole on that browngold rivercolour riverripple skin with its smell of sun, or else a tiny unsqueezed comedo by the flat and splaying nose.