31.05.26
The Pleasure of a Bare Neck
Controlled Exposure
Harriet MacSween, Vogue
There’s something about leaving my neck bare — no jewel, no fabric. Just skin. It feels like an invitation, even if no one takes it.
My weakest point, pulsing, airing to the sky, unafraid of even the tender touch that could hurt it.
Scent gathers there, breath lingers there.
A bare neck is always alive, a secret hidden in plain sight.