Do you remember your earliest kill, or be killed, fantasy? (Or whatever other CDG desire?)
Mine was at about six. In my uncle’s comic book collection was a western scene where a frontiersman, clad all in buckskin, was fighting an Indian, wearing only loincloth and moccasins. The white guy shoved a knife into the red man’s ribs. The scene is still frozen in my memory, an image as vivid today as it was the day I first saw it: The Indian with a shocked look on his handsome face, a knife protruding from his smooth, muscular, naked torso.
Six-year-old Caleb had an epiphany. A knife and a muscled torso. Wonderment. Joy. Pleasure. Sexual ecstasy. From this sprang so many images and desires. And more to come, I hope.
Mine was at about six. In my uncle’s comic book collection was a western scene where a frontiersman, clad all in buckskin, was fighting an Indian, wearing only loincloth and moccasins. The white guy shoved a knife into the red man’s ribs. The scene is still frozen in my memory, an image as vivid today as it was the day I first saw it: The Indian with a shocked look on his handsome face, a knife protruding from his smooth, muscular, naked torso.
Six-year-old Caleb had an epiphany. A knife and a muscled torso. Wonderment. Joy. Pleasure. Sexual ecstasy. From this sprang so many images and desires. And more to come, I hope.