I am drawing myself because we have known each other for so long. Touching myself because I am never far, talking more to myself than to anybody else. On a constant quest for solitude, dwelling in the eye of the storm of thoughts.
No one can feel what you feel, you decide what’s real. We are so similar, yet so utterly distinct.
The body is like a sentence that invites us to rearrange it, so that its real meaning becomes clear through a series of endless anagramsHans Bellmer