I think of the men who come in to be photographed as messages from an oracle. They come in so I can learn something. And from each one I do learn a great deal.

This young man was a puzzle. He’s a yoga instructor and practitioner yet he came with a dark and depressed feeling.


He seemed intent on telling me about his many sexual encounters.  He was very open about his love of fucking and getting fucked.  And yet when he stood he consistently covered his cock, obscuring it from view.

When I mentioned his “Om” tattoo he changed the topic immediately.  I had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding letting me in.  He was intent on keeping me acquainted only with his surface persona.

To try to settle him a bit I suggested he sit down.  He immediately went into this wonderful complicated position.  I let him hold himself like this for a good while as I snapped (and touched) his feet and hands.  For long moments I was simply holding my hands around his.  Things calmed down and I felt him relax.

Now the talking had stopped; his nervousness was gone.  He stretched into this remarkable pose and sighed deeply.  He held this for a good long time.


When he came back to a simple seated position I moved in to photograph his genitals up close.  And I noticed this ample drop of nectar oozing out.  I was surprised: he hadn’t been erect at all, hadn’t seemed sexually aroused, but here it was.  I looked up and tilted my head a bit, questioningly.  He smiled a small smile and shrugged.

I took away the chair and said “Last shot for today.”  He sat on the ground with consummate grace and assumed this pose.  Everything was still, deep, simple.  And his Om tattoo finally seemed to be something coming from inside him, a sign and expression of his real Self.


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