The city never seemed so impersonal. Where ever you go, you always enter feeling like a stranger, and roam around the room while eyes gaze at your new born presence. The wind is cold, and your drenched in city rain accompanied of sirens and insults across the road. You enter an empty space full of empty bodies with empty minds and empty glasses. Nobody knows about you. Nobody cares. So it all remains the same.
I discovered this artist called Christain Schad, one of those findings that you claim admiration to.
We spoke about, and i hope youll speak about them as well.
The act of "falling in love" is more beautiful than being in love.
So then why fall in love? why not keep yourself in the vicious circle of "falling"
This morning I imagined myself with birds in between my teeth. Its those weird moments in life when you picture yourself the way the mirror pictured you to picture yourself when there is no reflection.
"The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it."