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Kaotika — I Love You
Published: 2006-02-03 14:07:34 +0000 UTC; Views: 6588; Favourites: 177; Downloads: 164
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Description
Love Hurts and I am MasochistModels: Isaac (aka Traümtanzer) & Eu (aka BabyDoll)
Brush:
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Comments: 67
I featured you lovely picture here Dark Beautiful Gothic
Thank you
If there is any problem in that please tell me and I will remove it
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excellent work! *coming from another masochist! *
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Y love the pic!! And the sentence below... NIce work!!!
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Your ability to encapsulate passion and the unknown in relationships into a quintessential image is a powerful gift.
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What a wonderful comment. I thank you ¡
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Gran fotografía, muy buena elección de colores y efectos. Me gusta ese toque desenfocado y sobre todo la pasión que inspira...
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Mil gracias por tu comentario
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no problem, i'm glad you take great photos
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me gusto la foto pase a saludar la besos adioz
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gracias por tu visita....
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Please visit the following link to view your chosen ODD feature!
[link]
I thank you for taking part in my poll!
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i love this photo. i think its gorgeous. i love the color and lighting, and what theyre wearing, and how her hand is positioned. really i just love this photo. *claps claps claps claps clap*
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Thanks so much. I appreciate your kind words on this work
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me encanta esta foto!
se merece un favorito!
un beso
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This is absolutely stunning.
It's very rare that I'm left staring at the computer screen in awe of a photo, but this has done it.
Everything about this photo gets me. Gets TO me.
It's one of those beautiful things that actually hurt to look at. That in itself is an amazing accomplishment.
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You left me without words... Your reading is simply exact. The sub-title of this image is "Love hurt and I am Masochist" (I am addicted to emotional high wheel)
I feel so happy that this work touches inside such talented artist like you. Thanks for the inspiring comment.
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I can not believe how little exposure this work has gotten.
It's breathtaking in so many ways and it definatly strikes me as a new, creative and modern interpretation of Magritte's "The Lovers" [[link] It's not only the fact that you, be it on purpose or not, have remade that subject in a very modern way, but it's also the pose and the colours that really all work very well together. Amazing work in any case, very inspiring! =]
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Thanks so much for your kind words on my work 
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It is a brilliant artpiece by Magritte =] the fact that I see it reflected here says enough about this picture I think!
You're very welcome, really.
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This is the story that has been told and retold at every Mack'n family gathering for the last 30 years, first by my grandmother, and then, following her death, by my older sister Suzanne. Someday, it shall simply pass into folklore, told by our children’s children to their grandchildren.
When I was four years old, my ten year-old sister, Suzanne, had a white pet rat named Patsy Ratsy. Suzanne loved Patsy Ratsy very much and played with her every day. Now, I was an inquisitive, nosy, precocious child who admired her sister. I loved to follow her around, and I really loved to play with her stuff. Despite the fact that my sister was quite a bit larger and stronger than I, and despite the fact that she was quite eager to use physical force in her attempts to “discipline” me, I was forever willing to risk my big sister’s wrath to play with her things. After many complaints and tears and fights, my parents had decreed that I was simply not allowed to play in Suzanne’s room, and I was definitely not allowed to play with her stuff. I, however, was a tenacious child.
My grandmother Eve was visiting. She was a wise and kind-hearted woman who saw the world through the eyes of a philosopher. To me, however, she was just Gramma, warm and cuddly in that grammy-gram way, with beautiful curly hair and wide, enveloping hugs. Gramma had come to stay with us while my parents escaped for a week of skiing in Banff. My other sisters had left that year for college and other unknown adventures, so it was just Suzanne, Gramma, and me, together for a week.
Now, as noted, I was not allowed in Suzanne’s room. I was not allowed to sit on her bed amongst all her pillows; I was not allowed to watch her big black and white TV that she had won at the school carnival; and I was most emphatically not allowed to play with Patsy Ratsy. Fatefully, however, Suzanne, was at her friend’s house down the street, mom and dad were gone, and Gramma didn’t know the rules.
Suddenly unburdened by rules and consequences, I crept into the forbidden room with its yellow walls and green and red paper flowers. There I was, on her big-girl bed, curled up against all the pillows, watching The Munsters on the large black and white TV, and gleefully playing with Patsy Ratsy. I was in heaven.
Some time later, my grandmother, who had been reading a book in the living room, heard me crying. Before she could even go in to check on me, I toddled up to her, holding Patsy Ratsy’s limp little body up to her by her tail. “I deaded it!” I wailed.
Now, while I was a tenacious child for the most part, once I had gotten my way, I became an easily distracted child. At some point during my daring sojourn in the forbidden playroom, I had grown bored by Patsy Ratsy and set her down amongst the pillows on my sister’s bed. I quickly forgot entirely about Patsy Ratsy as I wandered off to find a new plaything, undoubtedly something shiny or sparkly of my sister’s. When I returned to Suzanne’s bed to snuggle amongst the pillows, I plopped down upon and smothered poor Patsy Ratsy. I had to have been sitting on top of her for at least 20 minutes before I remembered her existence.
So there we stood, my Grammy and I, with the dead rat between us. I continued to hold the drooping pet up by her tail, while my grandmother quietly marveled at my choice of words (“I deaded it”) and the ability of a four year-old to understand the concept of death. And as we silently stood there, the front door slammed and my sister Suzanne marched into the room.
This is where things get a little fuzzy. I should probably explain that Suzanne would grow up to become an officer with the Signal Hill Police Department. She has always been a rather strong, forceful person. As she and my grandmother tell the story, Gramma definitely saved my life that day by physically throwing herself between me and my ten year-old sister. To this day, my now 41 year-old sister cannot keep the tinge of resentment and grief from her voice when she tells the story of how I sat on her rat.
I would like to say that it was the last time I ever snuck into Suzanne’s room. I would like to say that it was the last time I ever went through her belongings or used her stuff without permission. I would like to say that I learned a lesson that day about privacy and ownership and respect for my sister. I would like to say all that.
But I can’t.
This story was edited by XT W-M. She is an attorney in California who has edited my stories and reports, both written and oral, for approximately the last 20 years. We trust each other’s editing skills mostly because we had the same English teachers in Middle and High schools and find that we have very similar writing styles. Kristy primarily edited for style and clarity, including improving some word choices, eliminating a couple extraneous sentences, and tightening up some of the description.
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Great and strange story... Thank you for your visit 
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