I see two women in me freakishly bound together, like circus twins.
I see them tearing away from each other.
I can hear the tearing, the anger and love, passion and pity.
Fluttuando, watercolors and gouache on handmade paper cm 70x100
When the act of dislocation suddenly ceases - or when I cease to beaware of the sound - then the silence is more tarrible because there is nothing but insanity around me, the insanity of things pulling, pulling within oneself, the roots tearing at each other to grow separately, the strain made to achieve unity.
The luminous mask of her face, waxy, immobile, with eyes like sentinels.
I am ill with the obstinacy of images, reflections in cracked mirrors
The leal fall of her words, the stained glass hues of her moods.
text Anais Nin
