F O X I S S I C K digital imaging, photographic prints four by 110x140cm, 1997

...she is still working through his middle, his room with her little lucky soldier boots. We are fixing the word again, lost the battle like every body coming home from war. Father is sitting in his cheer. Mother went away. We understood nothing but we had
to learn it's ok now. She is cheating on him and star fucker are rising. Coming up with empty bags again...
He had seen her in her deep eyes, oh so deep it hurt. she knows him so well, oh so well it hurt. Lurking animals, sweet and dangerous. Let go for that reason, we learnt to abuse each other again. It's such a long time ago...riding trough the nights and it's on a broom stick. Do I think? Father is sitting in his cheer putting sticks into his wings until its bursting the fires...
see it burn for me. He is not scared any more, his eyes coming home havn't seen enough yet, still not seen enough...and he knows if he goes up it has to die. Mother where are you? Lying down listening to all the little children hearing their stories. But lucky children wearing big boots. You see. Come again, will show you the way in the big boots, he said until you can feel it again. And that's all about, want to feel it again. But don't burn me for your sins, she said. And sorry that
he needed you on her ladder up till down. All he wanted was feeding the horses with sugar cubes. War is over now. Now comon now be brave. Bring it out, say A say it, say what you know always. Again. We are right in the middle now and careful with the boots... (SG)