Last weekend we decided it’s that time of the year to infuse our lungs with some healthy fresh air and we set out for a weekend trip to the great outdoors. Or, to put it another way, we sent this guy who somehow writes for us and a photographer buddy of his to Melt! Festival in Gräfenhainichen to see what happens if you push grown up people to the edge of responsibility and then push them to go one step further.
We had a really hard time to make sense of everyone’s incoherent mumbling and crude stories—they were really incoherent—so we held a broken beer bottle to their throats and forced them to take another look at the pictures to recall what happened that weekend.
And there he was. Still confused, lost and slightly taken aback. Probably just he used this to cement his image.
We were pretty sure this guy was a malingerer, so we set out to break his legs for real, but then...
...we met her. She told us her name but it went in one ear and out the other. Once she told us she’s a porn star from the Netherlands we were awestricken and called her Antje Anal to simplify matters.
Bartosz met his soul mate and spent the rest of the time breaking his back just to find a way to become even more like her. That means he wanted to become perfect. I like ambitious people like that.
It’s incredibly easy—way too easy—to convince people that you are:
A: Richard Kern himself
B: at least the "new" Richard Kern
Sure... just have a look above.
Shitty weather. Unsettled like a child with severe ADD.
No clue, WHERE, WHAT, WHO AND WHY we were there. All these goddamn W-words. Seems like we were just there and apparently we walked up a hill, too. Fuck it.