windows for desire susana segurola
I’ve recently started to receive photographs on my telephone from somebody I don’t know. She obviously got her numbers mixed up and sent it to me instead of to her lover. At first it was just a couple of pictures. I wrote a message to let the mysterious sender know she had got the number wrong. I never sent it though. I had already realized that those photographs were about the only thing that would make something of my day. I imagine that invisible face at the end of that long slender neck, the pale white breasts hidden inside that bra, I imagine taking those tights off and her pixelated clear skin, the sound of her high heels click-clacking across the tiles of the floor in her house…

This morning, however, I woke up in a cold sweat. I had got used to receiving those photos not meant for me really quickly… but it hadn’t occurred to me until now… What if they really were meant for me? What if she hadn’t got the number wrong and the photos were taken for me?