The window observes my naked silhouette under a complicit sun...

The radiant and warm light of the spring sun at noon sneaks through the glass of the window, not to expose, but to draw the movements of my body that is coupled to the heat of the sun's rays. In its intimate forms, the whisper of my skin wrapped in the warm caress of the sun's rays. The window is the perfect frame for the ephemeral figure of flesh and shadow that converge in all his movements. An instant of vulnerable stillness where the body becomes poetry, and each curve is a verse that the light underlines with reverence. It is my pure, unadorned humanity, a silent communion between my silhouette, the glass and the sun shining in its splendor.