Some of my nights used to start like his work: getting inside of that perfect peeled paint & wallpaper known to anyone who’s been out wandering in abandoned, off-limits locales.  Then behind that parted door, that empty window, there’s a woman in fur and rubber looking right at me.  Dark haired, dark-hearted.  She’s as doomed and demanding as the crumbling walls around her.

Photographer Aaron Hawks makes me want to breath in the fumes and asbestos for as long as it takes to get close to her and bow down to ruined lust.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 21st, 2005 at 5:01 am and is filed under Fashion/Fetish/Fixation, Smut, Smut, Smut, Arts and Letters. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.