On the joy of being naked
Nudity is permitted beyond this point.


Imperfect male face
Imprefections are real. They are reality.

They make us who we are, and everyone has some. Even the supermodels, who are pictured all over, don't escape from extensive photoshopping and other editing before they are plastic-looking enough to be considered acceptable.

Group of people
We all have the bits that aren't fantastic. I'm convinced most of us (if not all) have scars, visible or invisible, that create our characters. They are the sum of our experiences, and they formed us into the people we are, as we now live and move through time.

Even identical twins won't be identical for very long, I think. One falls and gets a scar, and there is another imperfection, another something that sets one apart from the other.

The "need" for "the world" to "reach perfection" is therefore an insane endeavour. It makes no sense, because nothing is perfect. And that, odd as it may sound, is perfect.

P.Z. Walker, outside, naked in the sun
No one is ever the same as someone else, or even as themselves. When I look at myself now and forty years ago, I honestly don't look like the same person. Much has happened. Much added to my 'imperfection', if we can believe the general industry's notions, but they are wrong.

We're not models and mannequins, churned out of a factory with the one, perfect mould.

That makes us perfect. A perfect mix of everything and everyone. Billions of people, each with billions of ideas and plans. Ideas and plans that can change the world. Big ways or small ways, that doesn't matter. As long as the change is beneficial for the greater good, not for the big, full pockets of those who are too rich and only want more.

And if we can do that in the nude, even better. A new nude beach, a small spot where we can be ourselves, they may be small steps, but they're important. They give us places where we can be our imperfect, wonderful selves, and meet up. Exchange imperfect ideas, listen to others, and make changes. To ourselves, our ideas and our world. To make it a little less imperfect.

But some imperfection always remains. Because that's inherent to us. We are, and have to be, imperfect. Otherwise there's nothing to change any more, and things come to a standstill.

Imperfection? Perfect!



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