Scarpette rosse


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My room. Shadows until darkness. A screen for viewing hours of film and a challenge: never press the “pause” button. Thus the films of my life have become a story of my soul. Portrait of family women, mine, the story of many. A visual mosaic of fears, anxieties, rips, secrets, desires, conditionings. Maybe this work is useful only for me. Or maybe not. Because as heavy as the inherited burden is, destiny is a choice, “he shuffles the cards and we play them”.

I stand in the ring
in the dead city
and tie on the red shoes.
They are not mine.
They are my mother’s.
Her mother’s before.
Handed down like an heirloom
but hidden like shameful letters.
The house and the street where they belong
are hidden and all the women, too,
are hidden.
(Anne Sexton)