For me, it’s less the actual photographs on Tumblr than the images they sometimes evoke..
—
She woke with a start, realising, with a start, that he was gone.
The curtains were still open, the morning light shining through. How many of her neighbours opposite had been in the audience last night? Seen him lead her into her bedroom, grasping her hair? Seen him slap her across the face before throwing her over the side of the bed. Watched him lift her already-too-little black dress and enter her from behind, almost in one movement. Heard her scream, through the windows and across the street? Appreciated that he hadn’t been stopping: only pausing to push her down more firmly so that he could enter her tight, unlubricated arse.
Known how cared for she felt, when she lay sleeping in his arms afterwards?