We kiss and slowly undress, as we impatiently caress and taste each other’s bodies like two starved pilgrims at the end of their long walking day. We are both sweating a lot. Our bodies are hot with desire. I feel like a scallop floating in the ocean, soaked in the holy water of desire and touch. My body hair stands up in excitement and all of my pores are panting, crying out with liquid. Smell of desire fills the room. I start licking all over their body. They moan and say things that I don’t understand. Are they cursing? We are both impatient with desire. I squeeze and spank their ass. I suck on their nipples, as though I am desperately looking for the water of eternal life. I keep wanting more, more, more! Their breath and voice rises. I curse and bite them softly at their tender spots: Armpit, inner thighs, neck, ears… I have to eat their pussy soon. I must. I’m starving for it. I grab their left hand and start licking and eating their fingers, and then their whole hand. Once their hand is warm and wet, I guide it to my cunt. They slowly put one finger at a time inside me until their whole hand enters. Their hand curls up into a fist and they start punching inside me as I moan louder and louder. They grab my ass with their right hand and keep fucking me vehemently. Their sweat falls on my skin and I feel the holiness dripping, and my body ascending with my spirits onto a higher, sacred place, a place only the chosen ones experience. The pleasure I feel is so intense that it feels like pain that is difficult to endure any longer. They shout out some rough sounds. I grab their breasts and stuff them inside my mouth, as I cum and scream. A transcendence, a change. We pant on top of each other as they carefully pull their hand out of me. Our bodies are wet. The air around us is wet. We are scallops underwater, doing what we’re made to do, supposed to do, destined to do. We kiss. I look into their dark eyes. I giggle as I say, “me gusta mucho vieiras.” They smile, and my hunger for them rushes in all over again. My tongue shivers to taste them. I throw them down and get on top of them. Starting from their dark eyebrows, eyes, ears… I slowly go down on them, savoring every taste, every smell, every texture, every sound… When I arrive to their vieiras, I let my tongue roam around their inner thighs, anus, perineum, vaginal lips… I enjoy my tongue grazing their pubic hair, which is as dark as their eyes and brows. A holy pilgrimage. They moan. My gut reacts. I eat their vieiras with enthusiastic starvation. The smell, the taste, the texture, the warmth, mixed with their moans and the choir of the Voice make my body so hot that it feels dangerous. My desire burns from the inside and hurts me. In the wet, thick air, their gaspy moans get louder and louder, until their whole body grips and shivers, as they let out a coarse shriek. With their taste still in my mouth, I gently kiss their belly, up to their breasts, to their neck, to their face. We hold each other’s clammy bodies until our breaths are soft. In this moment, I love them with my whole being. We hold each other through the night, letting each other seep into one another’s souls. We allow each other to become one another’s shadows.
The first bird sings and I leave them, as I love them. It comforts me to know that the day will be sunny, making my shadow visible. I will walk with them on my pilgrimage. I will smell them when the breeze stirs my shadow. The smell will bring their taste back into my mouth. It will wet me from my insides and help me walk on, despite my physical pain. I love them as I walk. They walk with me.
As we walk onto the west, I see them move from my front, to my side, then gradually to my back. Someone says that one is supposed to leave their shadows behind as they enter the holy city. I feel anguish in my heart as I hear this, because my shadow is love. The sun is hot, burning my skin. Slowly, I no longer see my shadow unless I turn around to look behind. If I keep on looking behind, would I turn into a pillar of salt?
I enter the holy city with other pilgrims. We roam up and around the hills, looking for the monastery we will be staying the night. By this point, everyone seems to be hovering at the edge of their physical limit. When we find the massive gate of the monastery, everyone hesitates to go in, unsure if this is the correct entrance. The gate opens for a moment and I slip inside alone through the gate, while the others are distracted, looking for another entrance.
Inside, alone, I look back at my shadow behind me and whisper, “I will go ahead now.” My darkness is my holy love. Soon, the others also step in through the gate, and someone calls out my name. I smile and cheerfully say, “I went ahead.”
In my room, quiet and alone, I look for my shadow for one last time.
I hear the gentle cooing of the Voice.
Loving my shadow, I open the window, and let it fly out. The Voice flies out with it.
I close my eyes, as I listen to the Voice flying farther and farther away from me.
looking for my shadow
I found my shadow
my darkness
my danger
my dream
my desire
my love
my holy
sin
Text and Images by Inky
Header image by Tone F Pony
This text is an edited excerpt from Following the Pilgermuschel, which was originally written as a part of the project “Choreographic Art as a Journey”, directed by Ludger Orlok and funded by Bundesregierung für Kultur und Medien im Programm Neustart Kultur des Dachverband Tanz Deutschland.
Inky (they/them) is a multidisciplinary artist and a writer living in Berlin.
Tone F Pony is a multi-disciplinary artist working with materials and movement to explore internal, somatic-emotional experiences, build interpersonal connections and to play.
