The pictures in the book are more like gratuitous surrealist sex and gratuitous surrealist violence. Even in a picture of a woman with butterflies attached to her back, that appears beautiful at first glance, you soon realise that they are pinned to her with needles and below are their Latin names. Pinned there by some perverse collector, perhaps.
The pictures are like troubling scenes from movies and have an uneasy sense of tension. They are scenes that are filmic and suggest narrative.
I was born and while I am waiting to die, to kill time, I take photographs.
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