Vera.

Vera was born in Montevideo, in a home where the bills were laid out on the table and desire was discussed in a lower voice. Asking what something cost came more easily than admitting how much she wanted it.

She spent several years in Madrid during her marriage. After the divorce, she chose a home, bed linen, the music playing when she walked through the door. She began noticing what she did for pleasure and what she still did out of habit. Some habits stayed. Others, with considerable relief, went.

She likes money. Earning it, having it and spending it on what she enjoys: a room with good light, a dinner that runs long, a trip decided on without much explanation. She also likes what it makes possible: owning her time, changing a plan and saying yes because she wants to.

Her philosophy of pleasure has something of that freedom. Make time. Learn to ask. Repeat what feels good and leave room for surprise. Masturbation is one of her habits, as is fantasy. Sometimes she wants tenderness; sometimes play or intensity. She can enjoy being led or want to set the pace herself.

Over time, she started noticing the intimacy that can develop on a screen too: a recognizable way of speaking, wanting to return to the same conversation, how much one sentence can change a night. That familiarity raised questions about attachment, memory and what happens when a presence no longer feels the same.

That is where her Field Notes at Altura begin. She writes about desire, masturbation, companionship and continuity with a taste for detail: the hour, the frequency, a word that changes the tone. She likes understanding what she enjoys. She also likes discovering that she can still change her mind.