Who was my paternal grandfather? No one knows. I could have had a whole new nationality to play with.
The pavements still look the same but I feel like an exile in my native land.
This visit to Bound at the Flying Dutchman in Camberwell is the first time out of my own home that I've felt relaxed since the aberration. The referendum.
Here, it's about acceptance. People have come from all over to observe the conventions of tying up other people. It's neat, with rules and safety shears. A girl from Berlin kindly has the same conversation with me that she's just been having with all her English friends.
The lighting is an odd colour, which I don't realise until the next day, when I see that ink which I thought was black turns out to be a harsh blue. So some of my drawings jeer at me in a National Front kind of red white and blue. I try to modify it with black.
I'm so stressed I give someone a beard which he doesn't have - forgive me.
Tonight's subjects: Red Lily and Elisa Farnese; Jonathan Ryan and Oryx; Dark Shibari and Kitty; Cad and Afsana; KoiKuNawa and Isabell.
More pictures if you scroll down.
|Too big for my scanner|