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It starts with the turn Her slender edges, the slow reveal from margin to bombshell, the hormonal show of the real: whatever it is, you know it’s fucking hot I promise, I would do anything to get you off I am peeling my skin 4 u Let’s talk about it: how we fabricate intimacy, the wet scapes of the world scolded back to rigid, flashy direction Don’t you think every hero must grow to love their algorithm? Chemical action without consequences, good feeling, bad feeling—young, dumb, and full of poems! With her long French tips and how their bodies work Outsource ur erotics to the moneymakers This month, we are proud to be partnering with Donna Haraway in building a new kind of human-shaped sex robot who wants to write poems Would a friend catch the dog-ear, unreadable script, whir of systems, artificially leathered voice—