There's a lot of talk about pedophilia, but I felt like my childhood was being fucked up long before it became fashionable...

Exhibition of the body | Photo © David Noir
Self-portrait | Photo © David Noir

Essentially naked: prefer the exhibition of the body to a certain appearance

Nudity Culture | Nudity Culture

I have always hated writing, and even more so the book, regarded by the literate as a real object of worship. Today, I am indifferent to both. During my days and nights, I absorb myself entirely in this indifference which now makes them liveable, useful, sometimes necessary.
I don't think I have much more to say today on a subject that I know too well and which, by too much evidence, is easily readable in the ultimately simplistic course that is mine. That of a forced anti-vocation. I have to make do with this false gift. Too bad.

The texts, the words, the sentences, I only managed to love them once they were carried by bodies of the most immediate nudity.

The exposed sexes utter the words of a speech much more eloquently. That's how I like them. Embedded between the teeth of a mouth, expelled through an asshole.

Thought is never more refined than rid of its appearance gangue.

As a result, I am interested in the words of our everyday language as much as I am suspicious of them and, by extension, I also look with a certain amount of mistrust at those who utter them with exhibitionist ease without risking the naked.

So, I do not frequent politicians or great orators. I don't want good old friends with whom to chat without ever having seen the body; I don't want nice family memories, but I do want to explore the memory of what I make. That of my senses; that of my contradictions.

Held, as a child, in ignorance of the real world, of the charms and dangers of associating with others, my weakness of character, which some would call my affection for my progenitors, prevented me from my youth to go beyond this shiny and artificial coral reef called the social relationship.

Soaked in the lagoon in the warm waters of a self-centered existence, I became a slow growing shell. Taken out of my shell by an existence set in motion, like a mussel forced to open, immersed in the bubbling bath of the life that struck, I could not cling for long to another rock in such a rapid flow.

Having understood it in depth, I now set out to drift at my own ease, too small to intrigue the sharks, too big to risk going through it. the baleen of a whaletoo daily naked to be stripped of my acquired advantages.

Nudity and culture

To be civilized means accepting one's animality.

My pornography

My prodigious mental space