Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Bergasse 19 ~ Howie Good

The sexperts are bewildered as to what’s causing the rattle in the production line of happiness. Others say it’s Freud who established a great emporium, a sort of museum of human misery, with parents and broken dolls and old crumbling shadows arranged according to the laws of chance. By coincidence, you’re visiting a city that claims to be Kafka’s birthplace, his name, or something that at least looks like it, carved on the trees. As you act the tourist throughout the afternoon, De Kooning’s women, all pink flesh and piranha teeth, rear up around you, and ash borrowed from crematoria shapes itself into extravagant justifications of future suffering.

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