I’ve never grown fur, but I’ve always loved those who do.
There’s something radical in a body that refuses to be trimmed down to fit someone else’s comfort. I celebrate bellies, backs, thick arms and gentle hands—every wild curl and patch of softness.
In a world that asks us to be smooth, small, silent—I crave the opposite. I want the body that takes up space. That rests. That desires without shame.
So if you’ve got fur and don’t mind someone who doesn’t, I’ve got warmth to give and time to hibernate—with you.
