He was concentrating on his breathing While the last beat of his heart was fading away He was still there dived into his desire.A breath, a memory of her smell. Powerful sensation straight into his senseswhere the little details of his life were exploding in a myriad of regrets She was crying on her knees right … Continue reading EroAnGst – Feat. G. F. Watts
The sun warms my flesh, my lighted head spins fast.I want the moon against the dark background of my nightmares.No stars, just the moon, up in the sky, alone, desolated. I try to walk but my feet are glued to the spot. I do not move. Inside, am I moving? Blood, beats, thoughts. My tongue is … Continue reading II. Panicnoia – Feat. A. Bloch
Exhibitionism: bodies and minds together, linked by the dull instability of the self. Reflected into the mirror, the face covered with delusion. A lot of words, written off, sentences spoken and sights without connections - lost into h(s)h(i)e(m) self. “§” Within the multitude - solitude. § is alone. And § shows what §s got - … Continue reading The desolate consciousness and the being unveiled – Feat. Egon Schiele
Sometimes you just need space, a blank thought in an empty mind, without connections, no sounds nor touches, only feelings. You and yourself with the world within yourself, nobody else. Do you need anybody? Are you somebody? You realize that life is an empty box filled with emotions and events, where nobody may say how … Continue reading The Blissfull Song of Solitude – feat. E.L. Kirchner
The space before my eyes; the background of your forgiveness. Picturing my outer space, from your hands careless of my inner world. Do you see my eyes wide open? my catatonic posture? I do not walk…anymore. I stand my ground while your indifferent and impudent estrus makes me immortal.
Self-burning, looking at nowhere. If my sight meets yours, do not care, walk out.I am just avoiding the explicit happiness while I am enjoying your misery written into your smile.
A broken Incest Freud of the real desires, of the straight instincts, those of the man that understood the inner soul of the humans. Not a creepy, disturbed man with a shameless enslavement to bourgeois power (his grandfather, the neurologist), but a simple master, a humble intellectual who spoke to the masses by depicting mainly … Continue reading Borderartline or the two Freud.
The present is never presence. Once we think to have it in our grip, suddenly we already lost it. It is slimy and elusive. It is in our nature to believe that living the present it is a certain thing, but it isn't: when you pronounce the word "now", it is already gone, it's gone the same … Continue reading The “now” unfolded #Anguish in becoming#
Imperfections are the essence of a body. Even a Master like Rubens wanted to depict his wife Helena at her natural, with all the folds and roundness of the flesh.She is covering her body, shyly, staring at us lost in thousands of unknown thoughts. She holds the fur in a warm hug careless of the … Continue reading Rubens… Sacher-Masoch?
This is Simonetta, a beautiful Italian young noblewoman from Florence. She lived a short life during the (low) XIV century when she died at the age of 23.I decided to use this portrait painted by Botticelli for one simple reason: I love it. I always loved the dark background with the figure depicted with warm … Continue reading Early Renaissance - Time, Nature, Pleasure…Rebirth?