Some thinkers argue that any attempt to escape from eroticism is doomed to failure, as no one can escape himself. Therefore, it can be said that a good plunge into the sweet kingdom of Eros tones up the identity, which is no small thing in these times plagued by fragility and disagreements. Spurred on by this idea, one fine day I decided to visit Eros.
He received me in his mansion, dressed in a beautiful condom. He was somewhat intoxicated but in a very good mood, and I told him that the purpose of my visit was simply to satisfy my interest in meeting him. He was very hospitable, telling me that he is sometimes surprised by the distorted comments that the tabloid press makes of him. He thinks that surely there are dark ambitions interested in destroying or discrediting him, but he does not worry because he is convinced that "ignorance has short legs."
"The most powerful empires, works of art, epic myths or cities, turn to dust with the passage of time," he said in a deep voice. Nothing resists the onslaught of history except my kingdom, which is insurmountable, invincible. You know why? Because it is governed by the magic of desire. I am the main transgression of the human being.
- Anonymous voices from different latitudes suspect that Pornography lives clandestinely in your kingdom, what is true in that rumor? I asked in an inquiring tone.
- You have to understand that any interpretation in this regard falls within the level of political economy. According to the aristocrats, they are the ones who make love, because the middle class fuck and the poor wallow. According to the poor, they are the ones who make love, since the middle class fuck, and the rich trade. And according to the middle class, they make love and everyone else fucks. In other words, according to everyone, fucking, wallowing or trading are pornographic practices, and making love is pure eroticism and sensuality. It is clear that pornography is only the eroticism "of the other" connoted ideologically. Do you understand Let's see, I give you another example to be clearer: narrow minds assume that fucking in a two-seater bed, type Louis XV, with silk sheets, is Eroticism, while fucking in the elevator or in a chicken coop is Pornography. It is a real delusion to think that! Pornography is everything I do when I haven't had a shower.
- That gave birth to him!
"That kind of confusion is obscene to me," he added irritably.
- Don't you think that people who consume articles from pornoshops or conditioned movies are a bit perverse? I asked him, to continue feeding my curiosity.
- Let's see ... Who do you think is more perverse ?, A young man who spends seventy minutes watching “Deep Throat”, paying attention to how well the protagonists have a good time, observing how they enjoy and laugh between blowjobs and caresses , or that individual who sees "The Lord of the Rings" or "Matrix" and enjoys the vision of monstrous beings that are mutilated idiscriminately?
- Well ... from that point of view, yes, the one who watches "The Lord of the Rings" is more perverse.
- Right! It is the eternal dichotomy between eros and thanatos. Fans of so-called "pornographic movies" are naive and altruistic compared to the wicked who enjoy Hollywood movies. But do not get me wrong, I am not against good cinema, I simply say that eroticism, pornography or whatever name you want to put what I broadcast, is more aimed at cute people than perverse ones. Perversion is interested in power, not pleasure.
- So sadomasochists are wicked? Because they are linked to power relations ...
"They are not evil," he exclaimed categorically, "because power for them is only a vehicle that brings them closer to pleasure." Perverse are the intolerant, greedy, abstainers, cowards, fascists and indifferent; Perverse are those who attempt against humanity, not those who reaffirm it, like libertines, like the divine Marquis de Sade, my best student.
I was stunned. At that his cell phone rang. He listened and listened carefully. He nodded, hurriedly turned off the phone and looked at me affectionately.
- I have to go, they wait for me in the office to sign an orgasm tender. It was a pleasure meeting you. Bye. Relax and enjoy.
"Bye Eros," I said, and I went whistling softly, wanting to masturbate.
And so the present work was born, a series of images and reflections inspired by this fruitful talk with Eros, which - I must admit - overthrew several of my prejudices.