She slips into twilight like silk on warm skin,a woman who’s learned the shape of her own desire.Airports hum beneath her feet,and somewhere between gates and stars and galaxiesshe remembers she is fire—unclaimed and unfolding. The world touches her gently at first—a whisper of sea breeze at the nape of her neck,cobbled streets warming the … More Wanderlust Skin (Lisbon photo diary)