When it became dark. The older man's boldness grew and at times by folding his hands he would prod my breast with his arm and keep it their pretending...that there was no space that's why it was happening , I didn't discouraged him or said any word this made him even bolder and now his arms were constantly in touch with my breast, he was gently moving his hand up and down in motion of caressing my breast. Even when he didn't found objection while prodding and caressing with his arm he grew even. This is me. This is other. With touch came my first genuine contact with identity. My breath caught in unseen lungs as I was massaged and manipulated. Muscles took shape beneath my skin. Structure. A skeleton that gave rigidity to my stance. And with structure I found boldness. No matter how locked to my environment, I stood firm. I was one with my world and I embraced it as it touched me.I absorbed all I could feel. I had known no other senses and now there was a mysterious world unfolding. More

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