We are trained to see friendship as secondary love, but what if it is the first?

There is always a distance before friendship – a soft, unspeaking space where eyes hesitate longer than language allows. In this stillness, affection is embryonic. This is the distance before touch.

I lift my camera to capture the red hands before me. The skin, a vibrant crimson, speaks of life and stories untold. These hands pulse with intimacy, stained with the essence of passion. I wonder about the bodies they’ve touched and the stories they hold.

In his novels, Bukowski speaks about the recurring emptiness of sexual escapades, where despite having many lovers, he remains emotionally distant and alone. A quote often attributed to him, without clear origins of publication, goes:

“The problem is, we look for someone to grow old together with, while the secret is to find someone to stay a child with.”

But what if the origins of the child are trauma-ridden?

“It was proof that I had not always been completely alone in this world. But I think I was also holding on to the loss, to the emptiness of the house itself, as though to affirm that it was better to be alone than to be stuck with people who were supposed to love you yet couldn’t.”

– Ottessa Moshfegh, 2018, My Year of Rest and Relaxation.

Loneliness is the origin of all longing. The once broken child, now a socially dysfunctional sexually deviant adult, moves through empty streets, returning home to a dimly lit bed with rumpled sheets.

When cognition is weak, you are directionless, and yet, the desire to be understood runs strong. This is where homosocial relationships serve as conduits of repair. Same-sex relationships that are not sexual become deeply intimate, where social bonds formed within the group, provide a space for emotional support and connection that may not be as readily available in heterosexual relationships. Bodies leaning into the same light, not seeking union but understanding. This is the sensuality of shared solitude.

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.
– Ocean Vuong, 2019, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, p. 119

Girlcrush: Imagine the way now her skin glows in the soft light. A warm, inviting hue that makes you want to reach out and touch it. Her hair covered by her khimar holds an allure of its own. Her skin catching the sunlight, shimmers withhints of gold and deep chestnut. The line between friendship and longing blurs. When you’ve starved long enough, touch feels like language.

“Make no mistake – there is no such thing as a straight woman.”
– Amruta Patil, 2008, Kari, p. 59

Cover image by Sanandita Chakraborty