The fetish of desire
Where is this object we call “desire” that stimulates us when we feel alone and solitary? Where does it come from when our eyes shine and burn, and the world becomes a colourful place, full of unethical desires? These urges are sins, at least to those whose ears weren’t chosen to hear them.
What kind of fetish attracts our gazes or thoughts when we are standing in front of a store window admiring someone on the other side of the street, reflected in the glass? We turn into passionate and anonymous voyeurs, capturing an image with our eyes half-closed, looking at this naked object of desire wandering through our imagination.
What kind of fetish makes our imagination work faster, in a simple blink we are able to observe someone walking beside us, and we guess all lines and curves of their body.
Is it a fetish or an arrangement, this colourful and attractive object of desire? Or is it simply a body walking down the street? Though it is there, among others, it increasingly stands out, and our gazes begin to peek at it.
Or is it simply a fetish, this strange object of desire that attracts us and we don’t understand the reason why? It might be an undefined hairstyle, or they are wearing the perfect clothes, and exuding a perfume we have never encountered before. Sometimes, it is a peculiar smile that we imagine exists solely for us.
Desire and its fetish have no owner. they scream a desperate call from the jails of our censor that we use to condemn them. We repress them keeping and suffocating them inside us, hidden under our shame or our shyness that disturbs us.
Desires are fetishes that seem like innocent clouds falling down on us like heavy rains. Desires can arise where we never imagined would exist. They can appear in strange places and, finally, bloom in isolated places to seduce two different people, or among others who exchange their madnesses.
We launch fetishes a lot to satisfy our desires, and we keep and use them like the silent and undulating movement of a serpent. And we pretend to be another person in our conversations, and like magic, our desires flow from our fingers, and so we become able to poison, sweetly, their fetishes.
Photo from: Foto de Camila Quintero Franco na Unsplash
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