Bleeding doll

Ulay and Marina Abramovic Bleeding doll Your pen- so dear to me a fetish that sets the world on fire never consumes us. Your love poems in my hands are bleeding. You say that these words written for her years ago, could fit our story now. This is the proof that love is not unique, irreplaceable but a ragged, recyclable cloth we put on our skin and adjust to make it fit our bodies. It blinks and pulsates like a talking doll’s heart every time you shake it the doors closed and hardly can open now to escape from the loneliness a doll feels when it is no longer the child’s favorite toy.