Untitled - April 11, 2002 What begins as a mild touch against the unsuspecting, is a subtle reminder of the many nuances that rule our lives. Every bit carves away at pale stone until it becomes an undulating ocean of blood red and bright crimson. Every welt raised rubs against smooth silk, resting lightly against scarred flesh. The surface twitches in response to the passing breeze, aching for some relief to this nascent mixture of pleasurable pain.