Naked Being

The Naked Man I was coming out of a bar late at night in Amsterdam when I saw a light from a house in a dark street and was drawn to it like a moth. I saw a naked man, huge as a white elephant, washing washing himself, by the kitchen sink, and I was enthralled by his slow almost sensuous movement as he cleaned his body with a cloth; and his eyes were closed, clearly he enjoyed his absolution. His body was alabaster white quite luminous he was alone and the moment was intensely his. I was trespassing it was not my business to be here, so I walked on back to my ship, but the memory stayed with me as a beautiful clarity of human vulnerability, in a radiant moment of utter privacy.