A journey into eroticism stripped of glamour and perfection. These photographs live in the shadows, where grain becomes texture and desire turns into something raw and instinctive. The figures are anonymous, fragmented, almost ghosts of flesh moving through dark rooms and open fields. What matters is not who they are but the tension they carry.

This work embraces imperfection. The blur is intentional, the noise becomes a voice, the contrast cuts like a blade. Eroticism here is not decoration. It is a pulse, a presence, a hint of danger. The bodies appear as flashes in the dark, revealing vulnerability, power, and the strange poetry that exists between the two.

This is my filter on desire. A place where the gaze becomes instinct, where the camera stops documenting and starts confessing. It is not about showing more but about suggesting more. What is hidden is louder than what is revealed.