I stand alone in the stillness of the room, the gentle touch of the kimono’s sash feeling almost like someone else’s. My body is free, but my soul yearns—for a touch, a glance, the presence of someone who senses the secret beneath the kimono and understands the depth of my desire. The soft sway of the fabric marks the passing of time, as moments of solitude slowly give birth to hope.

I stand alone in the stillness of the room, the gentle touch of the kimono’s sash feeling almost like someone else’s. My body is free, but my soul yearns—for a touch, a glance, the presence of someone who senses the secret beneath the kimono and understands the depth of my desire. The soft sway of the fabric marks the passing of time, as moments of solitude slowly give birth to hope.