The nape of the neck is where it all starts. Where he kisses you to make you tingle; where you DO tingle. Where you get cold when you forget your scarf. Where you feel warm when you dont. What i look for when i begin to wash my
delicate shirts, so pretty and fine with their embroidered patterns and tailored fits.
What i search for, when the water from the wash basin swirls the fabrics into identical clumps that i must pull and stretch apart. I look for that starting place,
and that is where i begin.