View From The Top
16 February 2018
Hannah Pierce stands on a coral-pink rooftop terrace with rolling green hills stretching to the horizon behind her, the overcast sky lending a soft, diffused quality to every frame. She wears a blush-pink ribbed mock-neck top that clings to her curves and white distressed skinny jeans, barefoot on the warm terracotta floor, her ink-black hair falling in a sleek, heavy curtain well past her shoulders. White-tipped nails press gently against the fabric of her top, drawing attention to the generous shape beneath, and her dark, smouldering eyes and full lips give her an almost cinematic beauty. She turns to face the view, hands resting on the low parapet wall, the white denim pulled impossibly tight across her round backside, the blush top riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of caramel skin and the edge of a detailed thigh tattoo.
The pink top lifts higher, and Hannah lies back on the sun-warmed terracotta, her breasts bared to the open sky, the soft light tracing the smooth contour of her chest and the delicate artwork inked along her hip. Her black hair fans across the coral-coloured floor, eyes half closed, one arm stretched lazily overhead, the white jeans still clinging low on her hips as the landscape blurs soft and green beyond the roofline. There is a beautiful stillness to View from the Top, the quiet intimacy of a woman alone above the treeline, bare skin against warm stone, the whole world laid out beneath her. Hannah does not need a dramatic backdrop to be breathtaking. She is the view, and everything else is scenery.
