|Nekkedness that way!|
The second time, surprise gives way to a realization that almost all the folks waltzing around in the buff have probably been doing so for a long time. A really long time. They are veterans: they don't flinch, tense up, or betray even the slightest sense of discomfort as they traipse around their clothes-free utopia in the presence of both robed and disrobed folk.
The next time, the time after that, and so on, a respect --- admiration even --- emerges. This nudism (naturism) thing isn't sexual: getting nekked and lounging around in the grass minding one's own business seems wholly at odds with a sexual agenda (prostitution is, after all, legal and regulated in Austria). So it must be a lifestyle choice, a movement. And one enthusiastically embraced...no tan lines against a backdrop of deep, dark tans are the norm.
Before long, indifference sets in. The FKK painted onto the pavement indicating that the area beyond is Freikörperkultur, Free Body Culture, barely registers. The nudity seems to fade into the landscape --- au naturel in nature --- until a random man, or a carefree woman, wander by without a care in the world, free of clothing and concern. Liberated. Little fanfare, no one notices: not even us. At least not anymore.