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[personal profile] muckefuck
So it's a sunny Sunday afternoon in Toronto. [livejournal.com profile] monshu, [livejournal.com profile] danthered, [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome, and I have been discussing the upcoming photoshoot over a late lunch at Caplansky's. Now we are all walking west down College Street into Little Italy for gelato. Suddenly [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome asks me, "How furry are you?"

In answer, I turn towards him and pull up my shirt, revealing a mostly smooth torso.

"I want to ride on you," he says.

I'm both taken aback by the bluntness of this statement and at the same time not fazed at all. I mean, artists, amirite?

"You're a librarian," he continues. "Librarian, lettering. Let me show you."

It's only after he produces pictures on his smartphone of calligraphy on human skin that I realise what he's actually said is "Let me write on you." And I quickly forget my chagrin as we get right on the business of discussing the technical aspects of the process. (The secret, as I discover, is pancake makeup--not Chinese ink, which I experimented with myself after seeing Greenaway's Pillow Book.)

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