If Only

Hayley Marie Coppin steps into a world of golden light and dappled woodland, the sandy path winding between weathered wooden fence posts and trees ablaze with autumn colour. She is dressed in a pretty all-pink ensemble, a long-sleeved knit top and a soft pink midi skirt that swishes around her knees as she walks, her long blonde hair catching the breeze. There is something free and untamed about the way she moves through this wild, beautiful setting, like she belongs to it, head tilting back as the warmth of the afternoon sun falls across her bare throat and she lets her fingers begin to trace the neckline of her pink top.

The top parts first, then falls completely from her shoulders, baring her to the warm autumnal light as the skirt follows in a gentle drift of rose-pink fabric until she stands among the trees in nothing but bare skin and the glow of golden hour. Hayley tips her head back one last time, arms open to the air, a smile breaking across her face that is pure, unguarded joy. If only every walk in the woods ended like this.

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