In 2016, I remember walking in Berlin and stumbling upon a little bookshop. Inside, I found books filled with pictures of naked men, and I distinctly recall the feeling of, “Oh, I want to be part of this.”
But I told myself it wasn’t for me. I judged myself—my body, my desire—as if it were a perversion, convinced I wasn’t sexy enough.
Looking back, I think I’ve always wanted to meet myself, to truly know who I am on every level: emotionally, socially, physically, and spiritually.
In the end, the hardest part was meeting myself on the level of my body.
Maybe it’s because we can never fully see ourselves. We’re always inverted in a mirror, distorted by a camera, transformed by light. I’ve pieced together a sense of myself from my reactions to situations, the way I take up space in a room, how I sit on a chair—but I’ve never truly seen myself beyond those fleeting experiences.
People’s comments have also shaped my perception:
“I think you are this…”
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were…”
“You’re really the type of person who…”
I liked that “you,” but I also hated that “you.”
I’ve always responded to those observations with curiosity: “Really? Tell me more!”—because I genuinely wanted to know. I didn’t know myself. (Do I now?)
But what “they” see is ultimately a reflection of themselves, a projection. Nothing is truly real.
I handed over the question of my identity to others, piecing together their observations to build a version of myself, a knowledge of “I.”
But that version was made of projections and beliefs—chalk drawings that could easily turn to dust.
It took me a long time to dismantle those visions, brick by brick. I began listening to myself, slowly figuring out who “I” am from my own point of view.
Much of what I’ve discovered is stored in my body: in my reactions, my movements, my emotions, and my desires.
The first step was realizing that I didn’t really love myself—because I wasn’t treating myself well.
How could I? How do I give myself the love I deserve?
Then I started listening:
I want to feel strong.
I want to feel healthy.
I want to sleep.
I want to fuck.
I want to eat, dance, cry, rest, pee…
In 2024, I met a guy at the gym who photographs naked men. I thought, “This is the right time.”
I’ve always wanted to be photographed naked, sexy, and in action. To connect with that part of myself—the erotic side. To give it space, to prove it exists, to honor its desires.
To say: it deserves to be seen. Shameless, wild, and free.
Through this, I’ve been reclaiming the missing pieces of myself, fully filling my body with my own essence.
Finally, I am wholly made of me.