It’s
difficult to imagine a more sensual, intimate, consuming relationship than the
one described in Photons
– a relationship made even more tantalizing because the intimacy isn’t between
two (or three, or four, or however many) people, but between a woman and light.
Justin Tussing
delicately and weirdly twists a fixated sexual tension around brightness, a
lifelong liaison of proximity without touch that, like any obsession, toes the
line between creepy and tender.
There was no limit to the way light knew the woman.
It knew her in the sudden flash of headlights and by the glow of alarm clocks.
It knew enough to touch her neck thinking: I am heat. I am heat. Light found her from distant clouds and from the pale
skin on the insides of her arms. Light saw those things that weren't the woman
only as angles to approach her.
Read more here…
— Caitlin M.
