Von Hagen is a little creepy, with his black hat, his absent lips (they’re in a preserving bottle, waiting to be kissed) and his, well, skin. It’s a good thing pictures don’t smell. Still, I’m thinking of plastination camps, Angel of Death, Arier to the throttle – pure, concentrated. There’re no Chinese convicts on the show, he claims, just volunteers. Lets all cheer. My baby went to see it: “you should see it too”, she said, “ We’ll sign up. Me and you. We could stick together. Copulate forever. Never short on jam.” I look at her. Long blond hair, muscular calves, goddess is the least to say: “Baby, he will cut you up. Sell you by the slice, or have you for his private play. Life’s a dice but we will be eternal, in a more progressive way.”