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Archive for the ‘found images’ Category

 

Water must have flowed from this fountain at one time, but it’s not my concern.  

 

Beyond what was once the tub of plenty: wreckage of love.  
I am headed there because although in ruins, desire is rumored to trickle down those hollow columns.

 

I make a wide detour so I can approach the Ministry of Poverty from the front.  

 

An announcement from one of the three towers: this is your mother’s love, your national department of finance, and the kiss from an unknown lover — all rolled into one. Scavenged tarps shield you from elemental misery — enough for you to make a fire, fill your stomach from a tin, recline your body for sleep.

Indeed love does live here.

 
 

The sun disappears. I walk back to the encircling compound. This is dystopia, presented by modern photographic media. But if you desire, if you care to look, you can find the tender prospect of love in any picture.
 
 
 
 

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Founding daughters.


S moves with ease between variously gendered circles.

 


K plays with fire, seducing flames and spitting sparks.

 


S and K are the co-founders of Woman Club.  Woman Club may be found at any significant crossing, in any city or rural area.

 
 
 

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Tired.

 

We slow down our racing hearts: to survive longer in this misery.
Lovers of all stripes decree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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As promised.

I have attached pictures of the house: receiving room, bedroom, kitchen. I spend most of my time outdoors since I cannot bear the emptiness inside these walls.  

As promised, if you visit you will always have a place to rest your head.  Although there is difficulty in such a proposition:  the flight in, the check points, the intermittent house raids. You are much too sensitive for this military state.

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I announce that I am there.  I make a few adjustments; sweep the unsightly into the shadows, move unlikely objects from view.  I even alter the mother of all symbols to coincide with the one I saw as a child.  I claim no feeling for it, only for the droop of its swag. 

I brush the plaque from my teeth and comb the lint from my hair.  I hold a glass of water in my hand as I head in.

The animal makes its presence known, bellows as I walk by.

And the uncertain maw — it seems to contract.  I crawl into its womb with hopes for a peaceful sleep and an eventual return to consciousness. 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

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Click on the pictures below to find what doesn’t belong.

 
herhousework.jpg    herbovines.jpg    herdog.jpg

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The after/before picture of a bedouin woman’s chin is plucked from a website offering the services of tattoo removal, hair removal, cellulite removal, botox and microdermabrasion treatments, wrinkle fillers, and chemical peels.

FAQ: Is it possible to to remove all traces of class, race, ethnicity, nation, the scars of war, and heartbreak — using laser surgery?

tattoonotattoo.jpg

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