h( )le is a sick, sensual, only semi-fictional, exchange on hole ontologies between an infected welt and its conceptually ill-informed host. What’s in a hole? Are they really great, gaping repositories of nothing? And, if so: what IS that curdled stuff rising up to meet us? Each page turned is another finger dipped in the rancid erotics of h( )le. Pressure mounts; the hot flows of hidden narrative(s) swill against bare skin. Unstop that quivering geyser, that pucker of riven flesh! Call forth the thick stew of the fundament! Show us, once and for all, what a hole is REALLY full of! Based on actual events.

145 x 145mm

riso-printed

hand-stitched