statues of self... the left false, the right real. Made by my brother from another mother, Duane.
the false represents the self we present to the world... sanitized, regular... heck one could mass produce them. the false self is a soul-less obelisk, lacking personality, lacking uniqueness.
The real self is like a tree that has survived Hiroshima and still stands… wrecked, bleeding, pierced, but hauntingly beautiful. The bloody concertina wire has violated the tree twice, and is poised to strike again… nails fired from a distance are imbedded in the trunk… and the tree hemorrhages.