Bringing a new baby into an established family dynamic is exciting but always a bit risky; it might change everything we know to be true.

The picture becomes a tangible symbol of a shared quality – expressed differently in him than in me – that connects us. In this light, the photograph becomes an alchemical artifact that bridges mind and matter.

I know my tastes and the ways they like to evolve and they are chthonic tastes, wild tastes, the tastes of dirt and sweat and growls at the back of the throat. My taste is eruption, climactic, lightning bolts that paralyzes me while I lay in ecstatic elation. They are weeds and vines that block the view, mystery and madness and wild cackling in the wind.

Eco-sexuality – it’s a thing. Google defines it as a movement of rejecting the idea of Earth as Mother as patriarchal, and embracing Earth as lover deserving devotion and respect. My definition? The elementality of Landscape turns me on. I don’t think about people when I’m having sex, I think about the Rain. I think about soaked landscapes. I think about running water over my skin. I didn’t even know there was a word for this until I read Sophie Strand’s The Body is a Doorway and realized that I’m not the only one that thinks water is hot.