Literature (spanish)Literature (spanish)

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Identità perduta

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I wake up shining from anesthesia and, for the first time, I recognize and know me in this state. For the first time my reflection is shown clean and the blue sky, so quiet, in my hands.

Accidents, those who made scars, already are gone. They have disappeared as the mountain on the plain.

In the emptiness of the huge I understand that freedom not dwelleth on oblivion. So, desperate, I notice that my identity, so bravely erect, has become incomplete, disconnected, withered, lost… In others words, my identity it’s gone. My identity lost its past.

Between the tremor and fear I hear questions, again and again, in a whisper, as errant drop going out from an old tap to the cold cold sink: do we really belong to an identity that forgot its past? Have you learned if you’ve forgotten the way back?

With my eyes drifting and hard and tense movements, my knees knocking each other and crying, the shout is shot to the stars: oh, mon dieu! why have you forsaken me?

Perdida, 2016


38-39 Identità Perduta

Dimensions: 110x 75cm (55x75cm ea)
Materials: acrylics on canvas
Year: 2016