the bath

photographs by me an Django van Ardenne

When your body and your skin become a guise, the surface to satisfy and seemingly hide all else,

why not pretend, for a moment or a while,  to be just that which you appear to be?

The costume slips over my skin, it fits so well. I think I’m quite the sight!

For the idea(l) of femininity is what I choose to wear,

Its complexity is one I understand, one I can romanticise without a worry or a doubt.

The fantasy feels almost real, the borders start to blur.

Until comfort is all I’ve ever known, submerged too deep for safe return.

 

It would be a lie if I told you

I do not particularly see

The appeal, Nor the mystery

Of being a woman

 

And for that to be the end of it.