A story of love and deceit.
K OS
Chaos was his name.
Chaos was his name.
His game was unraveling the wall methodically. It was a very large wall.
Took her 5 years to build it. This barricade was forged with strength and emotive grout. She labored to erect a fortress to protect her from the anguish of love lost. It was her pride and joy.
She did not need anyone to embrace.
She felt impenetrable, secure, safe.
The structure was disassembled by him with ease. Brick by brick. Emotional bricks were removed gently. His hands were steady and self-assured. His mind was astute and his voice soft. His physicality was unparalleled. He knew it. I believe he must have had a Ph.D. in manipulation.
July 2018. David Bowie is. The Brooklyn Museum. It was an odd first meeting.
This museum held documentation of artistic renderings of David Bowie. Here, the personal archive explored the mind and emotion of this magnificent artist. Bowie consistently re-invented both himself and his expressions. His iconic style, music, identity, and characterizations made this a truly unique event filled with wisdom and grace. David Bowie is had been touring globally for years and was taking its final bow at the Brooklyn Museum.
The power of David Bowie is created a vacuum for singles to interact. It was a Sunday evening when she was glancing on the multimedia screen at the handwritten lyric creations of Mr. Bowie. A tall, well-built man came beside her and just started reading lyrics out loud. He looked as if he had just come from the gym- sweaty, disheveled clothing and hair. The blue and orange rimmed glasses are what caught her naked eye. His voice was strong and deep, like a radio announcer she once heard on bbox radio in Brooklyn.
“Love You Till Tuesday”
“Just look through your window, look who sits outside
Little me is waiting, standing through the night
When you’ll walk out…
