You are allowed to doubt. Question whether these are really my feet - whether such lines, such arches, these almost delicately drawn curves can be real at all. But believe me: what you see is not an illusion. It is an invitation.

My feet tell stories. Of velvety-soft stripes over silk, of gentle pressure on a stranger's back, of naked steps on cool marble in the morning. Every toe a promise. Every bow an idea of how pleasure begins in small things.

They are not just beautiful. They are conscious. Shaped, cultivated, shown with the knowledge that some fantasies don't have to be loud - but quiet. Visually. Sensual.

You may doubt. But you will believe. At the latest when you realize that you are looking at the picture longer than you wanted to. When your gaze returns again and again. When you sense that it's not just a foot - but a feeling.

A feeling that you want.