When we look into someone’s eyes, we actually only look at one of their eyes. The eye is intimate, even more so than the genitals. The eye is a universe with a black hole in the center. The eye is delicate, shielded by an even more delicate eyelid. Eyelashes are intimate.

The flower is intimate, too. It’s delicate, complex, and smells softly sweet. Each flower is a universe unto itself, like an eye - parallel universes existing together. The flower is elegantly vulgar, using its colors to attract reproduction as much as possible. Its scent is like a song that enchants. The bee samples one flower, then the next, perhaps returning again. It’s all so perverse, enjoyable, and poetic - a poetic orgy!

Kissing someone’s eyes. Brushing the eyelid with your lips. Entangling eyelashes with someone you’ve just kissed. Kissing with open eyes.

Absorbing the other’s energy by pressing foreheads together.

The feeling of sonder!

Watching an eye cry is intimate. Seeing someone smile with their eyes is intimate. "Intimate" is a word that expresses the depth within people - the interior of souls, a profound inner space. It is as deep and mysterious as the pupil. The pupil is intimate.

Eyes are intimate.