terça-feira, fevereiro 03, 2004



"She touched the ice and was bruised. To watch she must pause, and so what she caught was never the truth - the woman panting, dancing, weeping - it was only the woman who paused. The mirror was always one breath too late to catch the breathing. Quickly, more quickly she turned to catch the face of her soul, but even when she moved at dream speed she saw the face of the actress, the small curtain closing inside of the pupil.She wanted to smash the mirror and be one. There was a joy of unveiling from which no human joy could call one back, there was joy without feet or voice or warmth, but he mirror revealed only the pyring. If she could not catch the ultimate flame of life, could she detect death?"
Anaïs Nin

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