Sécrétions Magnifiques Etat Libre d'Orange 2006
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Une ménage á trois sur la plage - Jaws, the figurehead and me
What a bizarre experience. In my mind: revolting, disgusting, horrible - terribly embarrassing to be able to enjoy it or even to enjoy it. You can't tell anyone about that, can you?
I can't sleep. It's eerily bright. The midnight sun shines ten thousand Kelvin cool.
Lonely, I walk barefoot on the beach. My shoulders are hunched protectively, for it is quite fresh here and somehow I have a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart is pounding loudly. I walk faster.
A deep breath fills my nose with powdery dry lime and brings me back to the ground of sandy ground shells rinsed clean by salt water. The beach is barren. A few washed-up ancient log corpses, shimmering silvery gray in the sun, tumble here, gather there.
A few steps further sloshes something me indefinable, but conspicuous in the water and wants to strand with the help of the waves. Curiously I go with my clothes into the sea and towards it.
The water rises to my crotch.
I stop in front of the wooden figure. A figurehead, iridescent, almost dull white from all the lime. A few blood red rusty metallic spots. She feels beautifully soft and cuddly under my wet searching fingertips. I join her and splash around a little. My clothes soak up and get heavy. I free myself from them and now feel more of the patina on the mysterious figurehead. It is stimulating in an intriguing way. Indescribable. Even a little terrifying. My heart beats loudly again, almost taking my breath away. Fear in my veins sets every hair on edge. I take refuge on the wooden figure and drift off. Gaze focused into the depths of the slightly milky water. A monster circles slowly around us, coming closer. Closer. Growing larger. Closer. In the rush of my fear, the beast seems almost tame. It grazes my naked skin. Showing me no teeth. Just its cold, empty eyes. I imagine it is a god from Greek mythology, in the shape of a shark, who wants to take me through here and now as befits such a god from the underworld.
What an interesting combination. The figurehead, my body and the shark. I am repelled, attracted. In waves. Gently led towards and knocked away. Wanting to run away and yet still a little. Almost unbearable and repugnant the deeper and more intense, I suck it in. And completely exhale again.
After a few hours of feverish madness, I find myself belly-down in the damp sand. My nose almost buried, inhaling the cold of the shell limestone. Salty strands run down my cheek, along chapped lips thick red into my half-open mouth. Everything tingles. I want to get out of here.
I can't sleep. It's eerily bright. The midnight sun shines ten thousand Kelvin cool.
Lonely, I walk barefoot on the beach. My shoulders are hunched protectively, for it is quite fresh here and somehow I have a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart is pounding loudly. I walk faster.
A deep breath fills my nose with powdery dry lime and brings me back to the ground of sandy ground shells rinsed clean by salt water. The beach is barren. A few washed-up ancient log corpses, shimmering silvery gray in the sun, tumble here, gather there.
A few steps further sloshes something me indefinable, but conspicuous in the water and wants to strand with the help of the waves. Curiously I go with my clothes into the sea and towards it.
The water rises to my crotch.
I stop in front of the wooden figure. A figurehead, iridescent, almost dull white from all the lime. A few blood red rusty metallic spots. She feels beautifully soft and cuddly under my wet searching fingertips. I join her and splash around a little. My clothes soak up and get heavy. I free myself from them and now feel more of the patina on the mysterious figurehead. It is stimulating in an intriguing way. Indescribable. Even a little terrifying. My heart beats loudly again, almost taking my breath away. Fear in my veins sets every hair on edge. I take refuge on the wooden figure and drift off. Gaze focused into the depths of the slightly milky water. A monster circles slowly around us, coming closer. Closer. Growing larger. Closer. In the rush of my fear, the beast seems almost tame. It grazes my naked skin. Showing me no teeth. Just its cold, empty eyes. I imagine it is a god from Greek mythology, in the shape of a shark, who wants to take me through here and now as befits such a god from the underworld.
What an interesting combination. The figurehead, my body and the shark. I am repelled, attracted. In waves. Gently led towards and knocked away. Wanting to run away and yet still a little. Almost unbearable and repugnant the deeper and more intense, I suck it in. And completely exhale again.
After a few hours of feverish madness, I find myself belly-down in the damp sand. My nose almost buried, inhaling the cold of the shell limestone. Salty strands run down my cheek, along chapped lips thick red into my half-open mouth. Everything tingles. I want to get out of here.
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