Krakow, around the corner I stop staring at a Working Class Hero from 1964 who also looks like that Aryan archetype from 1940. Tall and straight-backed and with a visionary glance, he regards something and still nothing beyond me, far away. At the same time an androgynous, almost feminine line – the lips and eyebrows.
Now it's 2009 and the pale hero behind glass has been reduced to display a blue, short-sleeved shirt that no one want to buy. Shit happens.
No comments:
Post a Comment