[Essay] Wings of Sensuality

I want to know the inner workings of people who can write erotica.
Sorry for the sudden question.
It's just a simple question.

Hey, aren't you embarrassed?
No, you must be embarrassed, right?

Or perhaps you aren't even conscious of it,
and you can write it as naturally as breathing.

But I cannot write it.
Sexy descriptions, that is.

◆

Sometimes, sexual descriptions appear in the articles of other noters.

Whether it's a necessity of the story,
or something that suddenly raises the temperature of the world-building.

Sometimes it's sultry, sometimes comical,
or sometimes it's terrifying and gives me the chills.

Every time I read it, I think, 'This is literature.'

I don't necessarily get excited, but
once in a blue moon, I do blush and go 'Eek!'
(So it does happen, then.)

But when such descriptions exist,
the relationship between the characters can appear a level deeper.

The desire to touch,
the dynamics between the two.
Sometimes even dominance.

It becomes vivid and brought into sharp relief.

◆

I tend to wrap things in sugar-coating.

I lean toward fantasy and poetry.
I wrap them in blurred light.

Perhaps that is my signature style, but
my pen somehow avoids 'vivid sensuality' at all costs.

And on top of that, making it fully public to an unspecified number of people.
No, no, no.
Isn't that somehow embarrassing?

Since it's about a story,
it's different from the real me,
but still, you know?

Well, even in real life...
If just one person knows, isn't that enough?
◆

But you know, I actually want to try writing it a little.

When I want to raise the temperature of a story.

The moment when I want to disrupt their breathing.
The night I want to depict the filth and weakness of humans.
At that time, sexual description is not 'just erotica,'

but becomes something like the bloodstream of the story.
If I were to write it—

breathing in sync just from fingertips touching,
perhaps I would start from a moment like that.
◆

People who can write it

surely treat it as 'part of the expression.'
Not as decoration, but as a necessity.

The core of the story, the proof of life.

It doesn't feel out of place, and there's no sense of discomfort.

As natural as flowing water.
I think I want to write it someday.

When the time comes to emerge from this cocoon—
I wonder if new wings will grow for me too.

Wings of sensuality.

...Hmm, that might be a bit of a stretch (laughs).


End