“I transform a little more each time I read the words in this Anthology. I come a little more undone through each curve, crevice, brushstroke, and intentional line I see, deeply, through the included artworks.

It is my Sensualist who becomes as I transform, though. It is my Sensualist who embodies as I come undone.

So, who are you as The Sensualist, before you peruse this Issue, throughout your perusal, and after you’ve let the art make you a new being?”

“On last year’s anniversary, as he’d held me, I’d whispered all the things that set my skin on fire when I thought of him. How that part of me that I had buried and forgotten about was awakened, and she wouldn’t rest. How I wanted us to go deeper, into the corners of our minds that didn’t need to make sense.”

“Never, I realized, would I stand as firm as the thick wooden cello. A man who cradles an instrument is not made to cradle a woman. I swore I would never allow myself to be taken by an artist again.”

“Marinating in this divine chalice of magic and mystery, I shuddered in gratitude.”

“There is surrender in the stillness. In bowing my head low enough to hear the pulse of the earth beneath me. In saying, I do not need to carry it all. Not today.“

“I put a piece of grapefruit in my mouth, and its juices release themselves into me. I close my eyes, tilt my head back and let out a tiny breathy moan. It’s been two days without taste, but not even a cold can stop the sensation, scent, and flavor of a ripe grapefruit. I keep my eyes closed as I chew, whispering a mantra of gratitude, reverence, and defiance. I deny myself nothing.”