Franziska Facella touches herself by the water

Franziska Facella stretches out at the pool’s edge, sun high, water throwing light back across her skin. The swimsuit comes off early and stays off. From there it is her own hands: one knee drawn up, fingers moving in slow circles over shaved skin, the rhythm firming as the afternoon wears on.

Outdoors changes the register. No set to speak of, just tile, glare and the shallow end, so the camera stays close and lets her breathing keep time. She glances up now and then, more amused than posed, and the final minutes need no direction from anyone.