Timeless Desirée

Post Soundtrack:

I can't seem to look at this picture without loosing my idea of time. I remain staring, expecting a move from a dead. Even a welcome gesture. The henchman's look never cross but share something. The triangle seems infinite and growing, like the angels in Dante's paradise. They are ghosts, carrying one more attempt to it's end. They are closing a doubt like one stops at the first chapter of a book. They do not expect anything from sleep. Nor from the child.

Or perhaps. A ghost dare staring at himself, younger, laid on the delivery table. He might be Satan's Juda. The sneak of life in all headstones. Curiosity and comfort for the surrounding grass. The wounds the nails dug when he was put on the cross have disappeared from his wrists. He is a man again. Reborn but strangely awaiting to be taken care of. He has time. Forseeing makes him smile.

He is out of the surrounding telepathy and only us can talk to him. He spreads his body everywhere we look. The surrounding statues have no power. Not with their eyes or the twist of hips one attempts. They need hair at least, these lines our body stretch from our veins to the sky for the communion of all movements.

Photography: Xteriors VIII by Désirée Dolron.
Soundtrack: Henryk Mikolaj Gorecki - Totus Tuus, op 60.