The Body Beautiful

I read two books today, one a fictional exploration of the corruption of the devadasi’s art and a forgettable short story in erotica. Last night I completed a non fictional account of one man’s recounting of the leadership of faceless sex workers. Three different books, three different genres and three different covers. Perhaps an overdose of words uncovering sex, sexuality and sensuality. It’s an uncomfortable subject and manifests in defiant posturing or righteous covering up. Reality lies somewhere in the middle, in the muddles of morality, physicality and fantasy. It’s a reader’s curse, the need to devour what is between the lines.

It is ironic how we celebrate the body in our various arts even as we struggle with its living expression. Case in point, this relief from Karla caves.