Archive for the ‘FKK’ Category

Naked I stand before them…

They gawk, smirk and laugh,

sensing humiliation, they salivate.

Nothing (much) left to lose, I feel

exposed and strangely liberated,

arms akimbo, I laugh back.

Sensing crazy, they walk away.





The Americans asked me: “Why Crimea? Like, what the hell?”

“Well…” I replied, “In addition to everything else, Koktebel!”




I had some time (freizeit).

I had some freedom (freiheit).

So I decided to get naked and shave,

perhaps epilate,

down under.

Actually, I felt a compulsion…

I don’t mind a little hair, but once it gets to a certain length and thickness, and/or coarseness, it’s annoying, it makes me feel old, like Budapest, 1966.

Some women insist they do it for hygiene…

In a sense, I do too, for cleansing.

Body and mind.

I do it because it feels right,

so right

and beautiful,


Contaminant gone.


I feel more like myself again.


Rabbi taught on the tabernacle and the importance of an attitude of gratitude.

He emphasized how the children of Israel were brought closer to God by the process of stripping, out in the wilderness, humbled.



The essential and elemental.

We must strip away the vestiges,

wannabe idols of human construct.

Modesty as a form of self-righteousness…

Adam and Eva in the Garden,


fig leaves and a legacy of bullshit,

my mind got to thinking.

I agree.

It’s what we want to see.

It’s what we want to be.

Something about it, just *feels* so *right*.

I am naked, therefore I am.

What more do we need?



I imagine myself completely naked,

walking along a pristine beach.

I’m holding the hand of a man,

he too is naked.

We aren’t talking,

we have no need to speak out loud,

we are communing silently,

it is a deep and pure connection,

as we walk along the beach.

I feel safe and secure.

I feel enlightened.

I no longer feel afraid.

The scene is beautiful.

We are beautiful.

We are made in the image of God.


The beauty pageant,

Ugly in so many ways,

Has its devotees.



Croatia and nudity,

like bread and butter.


She wore a beach hat, Panamka-style, Abkhazia printed in Cyrillic.

Happy holidays.

Happy memories.


She wore a Cross on a long chain.

Identity and faith.


sunglasses, to keep out the glare and contaminants of this world.

She wore nothing else today.

It was a good day.

The day that the Lord has made.

Rejoice, and be glad in it.

Living epistle.

Her hat made a statement.

Her Cross made a statement.

Her sunglasses made a statement.

She made a statement.

Life is a statement,

every silent expression,

seen or unseen,

sends a message.

Living epistle.


Everybody has a story worth listening to, said the asshole on the beach.

I was gazing fondly at the young woman’s derriere, nothing was hidden, and I heard the words, the story, as she stretched forward, her lips parted. Faces I could see beyond her, a young girl, so innocent and sweet (yeah, right). Juxtaposition imposed. Pink lips and a cute little kitten’s tongue, barely sticking out.

Everybody has a story worth listening to. You just have to listen and be patient, ask the right questions, in the right way.

Everybody has a story worth listening to: that includes me, it includes you, but it probably doesn’t include the dork who lives next door (right?).

Everybody has a story worth telling. Like the guy in the minivan from Dulles, returned from a long stay in Romania, going home, whatever that means, and how he talks: how backward and corrupt, dirty and banal, it seems here and now in the USA, compared to beautiful Romania.

Again, I see her lips.



Funny how they chuckle and grin when they see a naked body.

A funny sight this natural thing.

Like children excited, seeing something they think they shouldn’t.

Tantalized and stimulated, beside themselves with desire

(they want to stare, and touch).

But, mindful of the socially acceptable, they react like morons.

They laugh, make a joke of it.

Tonight they will relive it in their minds,

and they will be naked too.