[…] the grotesque body is not separated from the rest of the world. It is not a closed, completed unit; it is unfinished, outgrows itself, transgresses its own limits. —Bakhtin I write a list of all the things I want down the inside of my forearm. I do this with a soft felt pen so it will tickle me, a little ghost of the frisson I’ll feel when those things are mine.
Skin
Skin
Skin
[…] the grotesque body is not separated from the rest of the world. It is not a closed, completed unit; it is unfinished, outgrows itself, transgresses its own limits. —Bakhtin I write a list of all the things I want down the inside of my forearm. I do this with a soft felt pen so it will tickle me, a little ghost of the frisson I’ll feel when those things are mine.