People are not just people; people are ideas. They are both a languorous feeling and the strength of loving hands. Behind each expression there is a captivating idea.
There is tenderness and hardness in the shape of a body. There is passion and surrender. There is joy and frustration. From the strength of a pair of hands, or the electric connection of a hug to the contact of absence, bodies are there. That is because there is presence and absence in the bodies. There is longing for that which has not happened, yearning for that which once was and wish for that which might even never be. At the same time, there’s the strength of the being, a being without lightness because it claims a statement. Forcefulness. Without condescending. A black stroke separates white from white, as if bodies were tearing the endless whiteness. So as to be. So as to want. So as to desire. And because of craving.
