Lets start with no face and no name, just a mindless mass of skin roaming the earth. Without the specification of gender, the body traverses, at great length, on what might be called an adventure.

We could say the sun shown down upon the mold of skin, forcing perspiration to drip. The skin becomes damp, and stinks in certain crevasse. Its a human scent—not gamey, and the staunch odor lifts with each step.

We perceive the body, naked and wet, in the rain. The hair smoothed down to the back of the neck. Its head tilted downward to avoid droplets in the eyes. A defeated body, conquered by this particular element, yet its pace goes uninterrupted.

Next, we imagine the skin lump, purpled by the freezing cold, and snow. The lifeless bulk stiffens, while veins solidify forming dark blue streams under the skin. In the face the veins are more pronounced, especially at the temples. Eyes cease to look at objects, rather beyond them. But this decrepit bulk, beaten by the snow achieved nothing close to action.

Nope. This body sweats with distinct fowl odor. Lustful hormones search for another wad of skin to wrap around, on, under and with. The pores gasp for air, and secrete sweat. The stench of secretion engages the lump of skin into a frenzy of touch. There is no time for thought. The touching is instinctual, skin on skin, it enriches the body. Alone with hands everywhere touching, the world seems extra special. The skin enlightens on a gentle caress and fiddles, without emotion, on the various pores. Light tickling springs from light caress, announcing an eruption of physicality. Soon the mass of skin stops walking, although it is not about to die.

Nope. The body has settled into itself. Resting occasionally, and drying in the evening sun. Flakes begin to fall. Small flakes of dried secretion stumble towards the ground. And to, a build up develops under the fingernails. But this mindless mass knows not of these displays. Hair reveals itself in various places, but not long enough to sweep away the grime.

The body wrestles itself to the ground as often as imagination allows. This way and that. It has no other purpose.

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