Your name is_ _ _ _. Your friends are A-Z compounds. You study at a university. Your parents are divorced and your sister is younger than you. You are hopelessly attached to the idea of falling in love and living in a grungy studio apartment with one who dabbles in eroticism and has a great patience for the absurd. There will be art and there will be Nabokov and Maupassant and there will be dimly lit rooms decorated by skulls and pop icons with tape on their mouths. There will be cigarette smoke and Radiohead's "Lucky" playing in the background. You flirt with your self-diagnosed insanity and dwell on the overarching possibility that you are unstable and wonderful. You have more interest in fiction than you do your own fact, and existentialism and flatulence are topics of interest.
You is me.
**Nothing belongs to you.
Denis Brihat
Alberto Ibanes
It is frustrating. There is too much you need to pass through to reach an unidentifiable goal.
© Horst Schäfer
Photograph by Norbert Bunge.
Andreas Heumann
Looking so happy and free
The pain that was in your eyes is gone
Your skin is fair
No bruises are there
Something I always dreamed about - IcePrincess, 2008
Claude Cahun
Chadwick Tyler
