I See a Geisha

                                                               
I wear an authentic Japanese kimono for a boudoir picture.   The photographer  instructs me to kneel -  my back to the camera - in the center of my king-size bed with the white sheets, white vintage headboard, and oil painting of a nude hanging overhead on off-white walls.  The short black Kimono with peach lotus flowers, circa 1960's Kyoto,  Japan, is center stage (I purchase the robe on a trip to Rome last Christmas).  I turn towards the camera:  sleeves hanging,  coral choker sitting heavy on my neck.  I smile.  I am not beautiful.  My brown eyes are asymmetrical;  nose is too long; cheeks are too full; hair is too curly.  I am a strange, sensual one-of-a-kind with long lashes, full lips and gap-toothed grin,  what the French call a Jolie Laide - an ugly/beautiful that cannot be duplicated.    On the screen of the photographer's digital camera, I see a Geisha.