The first time I was nude outside, I expected something cinematic.
But nothing happened. No lightning bolt. No awakening.
Just grass.
Just air.
I realized nature didn’t care what I looked like.
The trees didn’t flinch. The sky didn’t judge. The wind wasn’t impressed—and that’s what made it beautiful.
I wasn’t being watched. I wasn’t performing.
I was just… allowed.
Being nude in nature isn’t about proving anything.
It’s about forgetting you ever had to.