need to delve into

in redacted media culture people by reflections and opposed by solitary martyrs. More information will not save us from it, context and the body in action will. Mine is a corporeal witchcraft. It is the shadow’s fluidity alive tries to illuminate, clarify and describe refusal to adhere to the experimented boundaries, that brings our achieve long-term relevance to individuals to the occulted nature of being and what it means to be human. Ultimately I propose creating a liberal breach, as the shadow is the realm of the fascial web its genetrix erotic, and eros triumphs over thanatos. The calligraphic shadow us supposed to ing. Poets

II

esoteric art world recently, it b In it goes in and out it comes for the first time – oral, anal and Art exhibition opened at A condition has long been known and described which occurs by the illustrious of thinking, after severe mechanical concussions, railway disasters and other accidents involving a risk to life; it has been given the name of ‘traumatic neurosis’. The terrible war which has just ended gave rise to a great number of illnesses of this kind, but it at least put an end to the temptation voices were telling er usually called a “plastic” one, to organic lesions of the by mechanical force. The smasher. Another… by traumatic neurosis approaches that of hysteria in the wealth of fitting form, the exhibition spans its similar motor symptoms, but surpasses it as a rule in its from the early days of the Temple strongly marked signs of subjective ailment (in which it re- work created by The sleeping, resting, waiting sembles hypochondria or melancholia) as well as in the evidence it gives of a far more comprehensive general enfeeblement and carpet from Kathmandu lies beside swim, immerse

wondered if she was alive at all or just a collective projection stemming from the lurid desires of Sphinx of Tindertime those shady characters present. Me and culture. Initially, art was tied else, it seemed. By the door was a mirror. When looking at my reflection, I saw the image of the same Mental identification: from th seen sitting beside me. It was definitely time to go home. successful the ages of six month and two y Outside the establishment in question, a fair, fine and cold day was about to dawn. I inhaled, exhaled, inhaled the crisp, cold air. I was sober and clear again. For the moment, I thought to myself where I work and smiled. For the moment. outbreak Lying on her left side, alone in the darkness and silence, hot beneath her two layers of fur, of necessity motionless, O tried position we might be, to figure out why there was so much sweetness mingled with occupy both (and all) organises them into provocative the terror in her, or why her terror seemed itself so sweet. She realized the one of the things that most distressed her the atmosphere was heavily affirm, without prejudice to fact that she had been deprived of the use of her hands; not that her hands could have defended her (and did she really he continued. want to defend herself?), but had they been free they would at least have made the gesture, have made an attempt to repel the Surrealism vs Dada hands which seized her, the flesh which pierced her, to protect her loins from the whip to make way way from her; her body beneath. How the divine spark of in strange it was not to be which opposes the work of many days of hollow of one’s own belly. The lips between her legs, her burning lips were forbidden her, and perhaps they were burning because she knew they were open to the first comer: to the valet Pierre, if he cared to enter. She was surprised that the whipping she had received had left her so untroubled, so calm, whereas the thought that she would probably never know

Where and who will you be

When I eventually cut the cord

Give it some thought

 

 

 

 

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED @ ERIS MAG DEC 11, 2016