That dog life though.
Somewhere between Spritz, pointless afternoon strolls and one too many hours to kill, I ended up in a room full of Clement's life and ruins (Clement being the ginger, hairy elephant in the room). Fundamental part of Houellebecq's expo (fuck what a name to type in) that ginger dog gallery was somehow something to look at, take in and think about. While the dog is elevated and exposed to the level of a human being with all his photo albums, endless toys and dog life memories, at the same time the text accompanying his memorabilia lane is reducing him to a "replaceable machine of affection". Is the artist right? Is a dog partner nothing more than a toy that we ejaculate our emotions and physical affections on like any other lover with no name? A victim of emotional instability? Or a saviour during our emotional distress? How much caring for an animal is too much? In an era where human beings are treated and killed with the outmost disrespect is it irrational to treat an animal with more love than a being in pain? It all comes down to one simple cheesy question that unfortunately the answer to is sad: Would you be more likely to save a homeless dog or a homeless person? Thank you Clement, you hairy beast make me think. And wonder. And drink some more in the name of animalistic love.