Marina Abramovic and Ulay: Love Story

Because We Never Stop Loving Silently Those We Once Loved Out Loud


A very special moment in a heartbreaking love story, filmed during an installation exhibition at MoMa in 2010 by artist Marina Abramovic.

Marina Abramovic and Ulay started an intense love story in the 70s, performing art out of the van they lived in. When the relationship was over they walked the Great Wall of China, each from one end, meeting for one last big hug in the middle. After that moment, they never saw each other again.

Marina Abramovic and Ulay, Auto Death, 1977.
Marina Abramovic and Ulay, Auto Death, 1977.

Marina Abramovic and Ulay,  Auto Death, 1977.  This project consisted of the artists sitting in front of the other, connected to the mouth. They took in their breaths until all the available oxygen is exhausted. The performance lasted only 17 minutes, resulting in the collapse of the two artists on the floor unconscious. This personal piece explored the idea of a person’s ability to absorb the life of another person, sharing and destroying it.

It’s A Rap: Somewhere between where I started and right now you caught my eye. Now all I can see is the distance between you and me.

The Whole of Life


Lightning flashed, blinded my trusting eyes.
Thunder ravaged my soul and forced out my cries.

Deadly winds ripped me all apart.
Tears like monsoon rains that flooded my heart.

Dark clouds ever-present in turbulent air, now
brightened in the curve of a rainbow.

The Storm passed, the ravaged debris yesterday’s view,
as the sun’s rays now light down a new path for me.

It’s a path on which I can feel the softness of the grass creeping through the cracks. Free from the solitude of despair, I can once again tune back into my love of dogs, this time with my  two babes Olliepop and DianaRoss.

In their mystery, filled with joy that strikes like happiness lightning, liberated from the tuneless and crippling feelings that have haunted my life for far too long I cuddle them lovingly.

Olliepop & four week old DianaRoss.
Olliepop & eight week old DianaRoss.

“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”

Roger Caras (photographer and writer)

Cool Cat

My latest poem‬ for all the thousands of followers On The Edge.

Writing is the memento of living on land, but wanting to fly in the air. Writing is my search for syllables to shoot at the fortification of the unknown and the unknowable. Writing is a haunting of the mind, a script telling how rainbows are made and how they fade away into the Eventide.


Anne Kollowitz-Seesaw II
Anne Kollowitz-Seesaw II

What do you see, people, what do you see?
What are you thinking, when you look at me?
Do you see a grouchy old man, reading my book?
Lonely on the doorstep, drinking my beer.
Is that what you’re thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes; you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still!

At 20 I have wings for feet and fly like a bird
At 30 my dreams of love,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 50 I contemplate the future alone.
At 60 I think of the years, the loves I have known,
A life that passed me by.

What do you see when
I struggle on my zimmer frame
To buy my Bulmers ?
So you see a body broken,
A man of poor character.

Well let me tell you this,
Inside this lumbered body, lives a young mans heart,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the pleasure and the pain,
I think of the years all too few – gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people, open and see,
Not a sad old man, LOOK CLOSER, SEE ME
A man of memories and dreams,
A Life story to tell.

*Paddy lived alone in a cottage on the lane way close to my avenue. He sat outside his front door everyday, drinking his bulmers and reading his book, watching the world go by. I spoke to him each day when I walked the dogs, just for a short few minutes. He died suddenly last week, from a heart attack, right outside my home, the ambulance came, I knew he was dead. Now as I walk the dogs I see his front green door shut and I miss Paddy sitting outside sharing the few words we did. His brother came to lock up his tiny cottage. This is an ode to his life.*

Young Life

The time had come for two hearts to go their own way.
It wasn’t sad; it wasn’t angry; just profoundly honest;

Kiss,love in the heat of the night
Kiss,love in the heat of the night

In the whirlwind of young life
Their love sudden
He blew her away
She caught his breath
The lust explosive
Captivated by each others touch
Living the dream
Fancy London apartment
Chanel and Bottega Veneta
Cap D Antibes
Woke to keys of an MG
Squealed with delighted
Vodka and Wine
Yet in the depth of this life
Fighting to be free
To own their souls
Losing sight of love
The power of another life
Kept them chained
In the birth of her breath
It came to an end

The legacy off their passion
A sparkling spirit
In the shadow of that spirit
Never to know
The geniuses of
Her soul
No captured memories
His dying voice
Silent to her life


RIP Paul Oughton

Freedom of Flight

Sophie Iremonger, Welcome to my pleasure dome.
Sophie Iremonger, Welcome to my pleasure dome.

Silver winged of steel
Buckled up
Cocooned in a cabin
No phones, no emails, no Internet
Racing down the runway
Soaring high above the ground
Distant specks of life
Winged of steel climbs though the skies
Clouds below, clouds above
Seat reclines, put in my earphones, close my eyes
I lose myself, soothed by the motion of the flight
Just a seat, a window, sky, music
Suspended, moving above the earth
Windswept heights
Countries, oceans, mountains, forests
Dawn to dusk
Smooth and turbulent
Dancing through life’s path in the skies
My breath of Serenity

Silence of the Lane

The dogs chasing the late autumn leaves
Fluttering down the lane way
The sound of the train as it passes by
Peaceful afternoon walk
The cottage walls and porches

Image Patricia Tsouros
Image Patricia Tsouros

Flourish of colour
Enwreathed with ivy green
Bellflowers, hollyhocks, hydrangea
Scents of lavender and sage
Memories of childhood days
Visiting grandparents cottages
One in the Irish Wicklow mountains
The other in the suburbs of Athens city
The free flowing sound of the river
Smoke billowing from chimneys
The cottages have no pretense or grandeur
Just a sanctuary of comfort in the silence of the lane
Reaching the darkest corner of the soul

“I AM Sorry”

Dominic Bell Singular Wave
Dominic Bell Singular Wave

*The story of Lampedusa – The tragedy of desperation: vergogna – shame*

It was a cold dark night
Sailing for Hopes for Dreams
An Island beyond the sea
A home of victory
A home that will
Now never be yours
Flashes of light
In the torrent of the sea
Father and child
Held on tight
Struggled for their dream
Before my eyes
I saw their dream die
In the cold black pit of the sea
I want to say
I am Sorry

I am Sorry
To all voyagers
Of despair and courage
Their lost Hopes and Dreams
Crossing to
An Island beyond the sea

To the Hundreds of Souls lost on the journey to Lampedusa


Olliepop 8 weeks

I thought and thought
I hoped and believed
I cried and mourned
I screamed and laughed

Then I realised it was passion.

My gorgeous
Every moment with you
Crazy for you
The fluff of your paw
Touches my soul
You gnaw at my heart
Endless days
Shortened nights
Awaken to the mystery of life
Picasso book
“Art Can Only be Erotic”
My babe forgiven all
You daze into my eyes
Lips so soft
I am insane for you
Our affection entwined
You lay on my chest
I feel every breath

And I realise its Passion

Forever crazy for you