My entire life is talk therapy

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” – Artist?
– Psychoanalyst.”

My entire life is talk therapy. People in and out of my kitchen, people in and out of my life – they talk, I listen, they listen, I talk. We play ‘’who’s laying on the couch first’’ endlessly, until exhaustion comes gently, gives us a tap on the shoulder – ‘’You’re good to go now.’’. I’ve spent my last years listening, patiently gazing at someone else’s life, someone else’s demons – and slowly it had become my life, my demons, my most intimate fears. Or – were they mine all along, am I constantly reflecting myself in the same mirror, the thirteen-year-old-boy still afraid to take his striped T-shirt off and show his soul to the world? He is a father now, he is the Father, he is my father – and these boys keep lining up to my door. Or am I calling them up, making them wait – it’s your turn now, talk for your life or else you’ll be dead, you’ll be living as if you are not actually breathing. In the end it’s never about saving them , it’s all about exchange. This exchange takes the form of text messages, late phone calls, saliva, hair, cum, skin, nails and lips and teeth and grabs and bites, and bits and pieces like my T-shirt over their black pants, like my hands over their masculine, almost parallel-aged hands – too dry and rough to caress their own fragile, soft-skinned souls. We exchange gifts and fears in the forms of hands resting upon hands, shoulders touching shoulders, thighs opening up widely, arms around arms, tongues around tongues, dreams reflecting dreams, tears washing up tears. Sometimes I scream so loud, sometimes we scream at each other silently, like wasps must do, like butterflies or other vocal cords deprived creatures – sometimes it’s like we keep our heads beneath water for so long that we forget the sounds our bodies make when the wind touches them. Our voices beneath water, the movements of our bodies crashing into each other, such a gentle, pure sound – only waves, not noise. My whole life has been low-voice talk therapy. Whisper your name, age and occupation – clueless, afraid and unloved.

Photos by Fabian Tatomirescu Creative Media

a wonderful collaboration with Fabian Tatomirescu and Bella Renner

soundtrack : WhoMadeWho – Head on my pillow , via Venera

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