Logan Moore presses his palm into the rough stone, fingers tracing his beard as he leans into the wall, muscles taut beneath his dark hair. His hand rests on his hip in one shot, then slides up to his head in another, the striped surface behind him a faint blur of color. Every pose holds the weight of his body, leaning, touching, shifting, like he’s testing the limits of stillness. The greenery behind him doesn’t matter; what does is the way he moves, slow and deliberate, as if every gesture is a choice.
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