Our first gathering for rope bottoms - GESHI

By Michisuki

English translation by Ka

No rack can torture me (excerpt)

Two Bodies, therefore be

Bind One The Other fly

The Eagle of his Nest

No easier divest

And gain the Sky...

Emily Dickinson.

Our first gathering for rope bottoms - Shibari Kinbaku Study Group - C.C. Beirut, La Plata (2025)

The atmosphere became impregnated with something subtle yet palpable, as if the entire space were on the verge of a revelation. There was a word—just one—that united us without ever being spoken: desire. And that word turned into a tacit pact, a deep and primal force. There was something to be discovered, something that had remained hidden in us, and this encounter—so fleeting, so intense—was the threshold.

We were six, no more, no less. Six bodies, six stories searching for each other in silence, through the air and the textures of the unsaid. At one point, we looked up, and for a second, time became dense—it was suspended. What we saw, or perhaps sensed, was as ephemeral as a dream.

Ka guided the practice. Her voice led us into a first, non-visual encounter. There were no gazes, only a connection born of touch, of closeness, of the way our bodies aligned without knowing each other. A brush of skin against fabric, a shared scent that couldn’t be explained. I felt myself surrendering, but with caution, with a shadow of shame, as if a piece of myself was still tied to something that wouldn’t let me fully let go. I thought, “I can’t, I shouldn’t”—but I didn’t say it. There were no words.

When I opened my eyes, the light in the room seemed to have changed (or maybe it was me who had changed). And then it happened: Nico’s deep and accurate gaze that didn't ask permission to invade my inner space. A space so uncomfortable I could only laugh nervously -she laughed too. It was something almost wild, so direct it made me feel vulnerable, so open and exposed that I felt as if my entire past could be read in those few seconds. But what I didn’t expect was that her gaze also gave something back to me that I had lost: trust. It was a gaze that didn’t judge me or demand; it simply was there, like a promise. It was as if all the pieces suddenly fell into place and the weight of who we had been before this encounter melted away.

The complexity of the overwhelmed mind

My mind—that machine that never stops—is taking my life away, dragging me into thoughts that do nothing but perpetuate chaos. Today, my struggle is different: to listen to my body, this bodily stage that reveals the truth in every shallow breath, in every heartbeat that drags me towards the immediate. And my mind is still there, tense, chasing answers where there's only silence. Yet in the middle of that emptiness, something is beginning to clear: I don’t always have to have an answer or understand evertything. Maybe the key is to let go of the mind, to release the ideas and allow the body—so wise in its tiredness—to guide me toward something deeper, something I cannot yet see, but that is there, waiting for me.

There is beauty in shibari, yes,—in the ropes drawing patterns on the skin, in the trust born of vulnerability. But there is also an unsettling depth that surfaces with every friction. It’s easy to get lost, to forget that behind the rope there’s a need to connect with that other skin, with that one who sees me, feels me, touches me.

But the questions multiply like shadows stretching at dusk.

What am I feeling?

What do I do with what I feel?

How do you measure pain when it becomes something you can no longer separate from yourself?

I’m already longing for the next gathering.