Miroslav Tichý, Untitled
On summer days when the sun shines
I watch the tape
And through the snow, through the window
I watch her wave to me
And through the haze
I have a friend I´ve never seen
he hides his head inside a dream
Nan Goldin, Heart-shaped bruise NYC 1980
When you're ripe you'll
bleed out of control
you'll bleed out of control
We sail through endless skies