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  • I speak to you of a time long gone, a time before the discovery of sex as means for clairvoyance. "There's something odd about this boy" exclaimed the doctor to a nurse, as the lonely creature is torn out of his mother's womb like a cancer. "What's his name"? asked the nurse. "Hollow", replied the doctor. The nurse leaned in slowly as if being sucked in by a secret. "You mean Hollow, as in- "Yes", the doctor solemnly interjected.
    A silence punctuated the air with a tone that made this birth seem more like a funeral.

    At age 5, he looked into a mirror and saw the abyss of an absolute unknown that got deeper and deeper each day. On his eighteenth birthday he sat down and cried for the first and very last time in his life, feeling the awful pain needed to balance and equalize his structure. And dear readers, there was pain all over him. Pain and a melancholic longing for something he knows not. This resulted in him, in a keen sense of esthetics and heightened powers of observation, due to the state of alert he had to be, in case he came across that certain "something" he was so eagerly searching for. And that's how ladies and gentlemen, he became a fetishist.

    For him, a fetish was not a shield, but rather a portal, a doorway to the other side of the mirror ,a map to a deeper truth, to the second skin. He was a fetishist because he needed the electrical spark generated by proportionally startling visual objects with strong symbolic connotations. It kept pushing him to the precipice of his knowledge, and to an awesome challenge he could never undertake, that of appeasing his curiosity. This fortunate side-effect proved quite profitable as Hollow boy began working as a photographer, and one life-changing day as he peeked through the lens of his panaflex, he heard a deep voice which resonated from the core of his very being: "You are what you see".

    Although he couldn't grasp it's meaning, he certainly felt the insurmountable weight these words carried. Better yet, he sensed they were a riddle. Perhaps somewhere in there laid the certain something that was going to fulfill the absence. Hollow boy briefly turned to drugs, after all it was a substance. But drugs wasn't it, he concluded. And the cosmic rain keeps falling, showering people through a vicious cycle, a massive tidal wave called... life! That and other drug induced dime-store insights, that lead you further and further away from the inner child, and every once in a while you come out and say: "wow, I'm an ass-hole, this whole life thing was bigger then what I thought.

    For Hollow boy, it was a gut wrenching realization that his role model, the one who carried him on her bony back, was a sexually unsatisfied middle class housewife so sensitive and religious, she'd rather feel sorry for herself, then let one of her children go hungry. No one touched her family, she brought home the bacon. All Hollow boy could think was: "mom, she was a hell of a guy". She tried to give Hollow boy that good-old cowboy code of honour, the merchant's seal of trust. So to make a long story short, Hollow Boy ended up only dating muscle-mania chicks. That and he would occasionally look himself in the mirror, while pointing a loaded gun to his own head and yell: "Mother! I only distanced myself from you because I was never felt good enough. And mother,what kills me, what really kills me is your elegance of spirit." He admired his mother to a point were he had to occasionally dress in drag. Her legacy had to be continued, and no one knew her better then Hollow boy.

    In fact, Hollow boy remembers when he looked into his mother's eyes and felt the devastating biological tingling of coming face to face with your cosmic point. He dressed like his mother because losing her was painful, he had to see her again. Only he could produce the emotional hologram that would bring her back, he suddenly understood the sentence: you are what you see. There, facing a mirror, seeing yourself as your mother, seeing yourself in your mother, both becoming one, beautifully uniting and waltzing around the bright sun on a cloud of liquid warmth.

    He would vomit upon every encounter. The electricity generated from these encounters always lead Hollow Boy to experience tremendous pain and dizziness. All because he felt afraid to feel time move under his feet. He could not accept that the wall of time kept sliding everyone towards the inevitable abyss. The fear of death was the fear of growth, hollow boy optimistically concluded, and why not.
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