Some items are more desirable than others. At least that's how they want us to feel. I try to ignore what's hot or not. It's not easy. I don't have an eye for trends but at the same time I feel deeply indoctrinated. It's impossible to ignore what my eyes are open to. It's impossible not to appraise what reaches my optic nerves. What a fucking world, huh?

I no longer know what I desire. I no longer know what I desire. I no longer know what feelings of desire actually belong to me. Or why some desires possibly became a part of me.



D
E
S
I
R
E




Evolving into pure obsession.



I
HAVE
TO
HAVE
IT




Weakness.

        Compensation.

                    There are many things that belong to this story.



& some have unwittingly fallen into my possession.



Appearing from nowhere )( at the storefronts of the streets. Not entirely free but benevolent. Already used to its maximum limit. Or so they thought.
An attempt to use until it does not exist anymore. Until my feelings of possible desire do not exist )( or at least until I've gotten to know them.


I keep what we leave.
& I don't think it's junk anymore.



I
HAVE
TO
PICK
IT
UP



Pure obsession.
Evolving into memorabilia.



I won't be hysterically sad if I lose that black piece of glass, but the fact remains that it is quite fantastic. Perhaps the rubber pig doesn't mean the world to me, but I do love her. And that piece of porcelain, it was a damn fine house it lived in. Typical well-developed compensation.

You always think I should choose you. You all do. You all want some attention.
Yeah, but who has the right to give us the blame for it?