“My husband got involved with a younger woman at work. I was relaxed about it at first. He’s thirteen years younger than me, so I thought: ‘Shit happens.’ But then she got pregnant. Luckily through the divorce process I had the opportunity to take over this shithole place with no heating, which I’ve turned into an art studio. And now I’m living my best life. Everything is for sale except the pink chandelier and the dog. Anyone is free to stop by at anytime. You can eat or drink whatever you want. All the young people in the neighborhood love me. I’m the oldest person in our friend group. Everyone else is in their twenties or thirties. They call me Queen Mama. I call them my adopted kids. I always help them with their school projects and resumes and interviews. I only ask one thing in return. Each of them has to teach me one new thing every week: a piece of music, a trend, an idea. Just so I can stay up to date. Before you take the photograph, let me go inside and put on some make-up. We were out until 2 AM last night.” (Amsterdam, The Netherlands)
so it’s a wednesday night in july and you’re at home and you’ve showered and you’ve masturbated and you’ve gnawed at the inside of your mouth and you’ve eaten and washed the dishes and fixed a corner of the fitted sheet on your bed and texted your grandmother and thought positive thoughts and still the feeling comes. what then
what is art about? blood. what is love about? blood. what is hate about? blood. what is sex about? blood. what is history about? blood. what am i about? blood. what is blood about? idk ask a biologist i guess
