Certainties are made of fine Chinese porcelain – very few remain intact. The Beauty of our Wounds, the ones we try so hard to forget or hide, is an exception.
The more I live, observing everything as a movie – I´m a curious spectator of my life -, the more I REALize that power comes from assuming (and celebrating) my own fragilities. Instead of hiding them, mostly from myself, I´m starting to plant them in my backyard, holding them in my hands like precious seeds I know will bear the most delicious fruits.
The more I wake up, the more I kiss those shadows.
The more I wake up, the more I lick the blood off those wounds.
No more under the carpet – no more pretending only sun shines over here, in my bed.
Curiosuly enough, once I´ve acknowledged and kissed those shadows, they become rays of light. The moment I lick the stale blood off my wounds, they become Freedom.This is not a cute portrait of me but it´s one of my favourites.
A moment of exhaustion – reflection/face to face meeting in the mirror – captured by my assistant, Nagle, on a break between shows in Cairo, Egypt.
Vulnerability – truth – is always beautiful.