We spend our lives breeding bizarre eccentricities to make up for our defunct personalities, always on the lookout for someone plagued by the same complexities. In a twisted world full of tortured souls, simple love is an aberration. Simplicity can be hard to swallow when our existence is riddled with a lust for complication and a craving to foster each other’s concocted neurosis. So we keep crawling, in and out of hearts, in search of a love that is special in its own fucked up way.
(Picture – Manequin Factory, Erich Hartmann, 1969)