looking out of small dusty windows for mexican wrestlers, those men that work the funeral pyres, Dr. Gunther von Hagens, men who can mesmerize cobras, command falcons and control cranky camels; my dead relatives who came across the country in covered wagons and the indians who killed three of them; contortionists, cerebral fractal freaks- people who have seen dead bodies in glaciers, intact as the day they were swallowed by ice; all those who have risen up from oppression and suffering and have walked into light.
2 Comments:
you really do not fuck about do you?
you tell it like it is/was without sitting in judgement.
it must be a long and arduous journey into the light.
doctor gunther von hagens.
i loved the plasticised human remains thing. odd but somehow interesting. almost art.
the first time at that exhibit, my son kept hissing in my ear not to touch the bodies which i oh so wanted to and suddenly the security was running amok with walkie talkies squealing in hot pursuit of some rapscallion who had snapped a finger off and was hustling through the crowd to escape. lucky finger.
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