When he arrived he wore nothing but a camera around his neck. He should have been in a museum with a face like that, but he had too much still to do and — as I was soon to learn — sitting around being looked at was something he was fond of avoiding these days. He travelled light, barely even a body was present. Instead, a vague stone shape with corners and edges which implied muscles and joints that may once have been. As rock and metal grows faded and the details are wiped away by years of caressing in the hope of the chosen hand absorbing some mythical good luck or arcane sexual prowess, so too can a body be lost after centuries of running — over by greedy eyes. The more that is seen, the less there is worth seeing. He knew this better than most. [...] Read Nathan Korn’s ‘A Greek Tragedy’, accompanied by the intimate photography of London-based photographer of fantasies @manos_wrld in our latest issue 🫦