"Bring to me your naked throat

it shall be pressed by lips or palm, steel or cord, and by squeeze or slice you'll spill your secrets bare."

I read that somewhere. I did. I forget where. But I believe in the throat. The throat is a special area.

The throat is vulnerable. The throat carries all your special fluids up, and all your special thoughts out. Ferried up, ferried out. A doorway. We like doorways.

So fragile, it is. Cartilage, a bone or two, a pendulous weight above and an anchor below, and with a shake or two it can all be over for some. The noose has circled and closed here in order to say 'Goodbye',and it still does in some places in the world.

In other news, it is a beautiful place, the skin often soft and white, which if smelled brings shivers to both, the ears nearby, the face containing most other senses inches away, eyes closing as lips part and a tiny breath escapes from that cartilaginous tube and out through those lips and creates a tiny moist cloud which may or may not be visible, it depends on where you live and what time of year it is, but that hot tiny cloud floats out and away without any help from your hands, which most certainly want to clutch at the source of it all, it begs for clutching, the perfect size and shape. Warm. Smooth. Precious.