Why flash your undies when you can bare your soul?

I like to wander about the web, searching mostly for short stories and the strange and the new, things that would challenge my sense of reality. One night I found the web page of an exhibitionist. A woman that loved to display herself. So much so, that she even has a web camera in her bedroom.

From the text of her page it became clear that she has a childlike joy in exposing herself. She clearly is having far more fun than many persons I have seen engaged in far more sober and "proper" activities.

Whilst contemplating the setting up this web site, it occurred to me that literature is a far deeper and more "perverted" activity than that indulged in by this lady.

She bares, at most, the private parts of her body. The sole criterion of good art, in whatever form, is how deeply it exposes the authors soul.

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