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CHICAGO, 2005 ❋ Katrina Schaag

back in the synthetic grime pool, naked bodies thrashed out chord distortion, screeching noise rippling through the sweaty static air, a rampage a cough. she ripped her underclothes and sprung into the pit, a manic stab at heaven, blissful carnage modified.

in those days a barred door was a tunnel to thrills, earning cuts and bruises, tying delicate pain-ribbons around shuddering frenetic limbs. saying “i like you” translated to “let’s get smashed & do it in a cave, explode in wavelengths” and even the ebbs and flows had some steam to let off.

there was something pure about the starving energy – a brutality seething in beauty, a rawness that cut lovingly. the idea was to loosen restraints and throw everything into the whirling magic-machine, a collective brainchild engineered to get out of our heads and into our bodies.