I dance with architecture, become part of a building and create a sculpture with my body and the concrete. This is what you see, but reality, things are not what they seem.
In reality, I am in quarantine, longing for the outside every minute I’m awake. It’s an entirely different thing to decide to stay in bed for a day from not being able to leave your house at all. The thought of the world ending at my doorstep lays heavy on my shoulders and darkens my mind. Ok, I’m too tired to walk from my bed to the living room most of the time, but anyway.
I catch myself several times a day thinking, “Oh, I could go there”, and then I realise again that I can’t. It’s silly since, a few days of living in a beautiful home should be manageable, right? Especially, after all the experience with isolation in the last years. But then the walls seem to come closer and closer again. I miss a hug, the feeling of sunlight on my skin. I wonder if my friends are still more than voices and moving pictures appearing on a tiny screen every now and then. I ask those little faces to tell me about the world out there with greedy anticipation.
Then I fall asleep again, too tired to be a part of the world. I wake up, and my mind asks my body, “Are you fine again?”, “No, not yet? Ok, no problem, take your time”. Next, I attempt to watch a documentary about racism in coding or about art forgery or creativity, and I fall asleep again. My days and nights fade into each other, the world is all blurry.
A few more days, just a few more days. I sneeze my nose, get rid of the messy hair in my face and feel my least glamorous me. It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m healing. Thank you, body, for being strong. Covid, it took you long to get me, now you won, but I will be laughing after you’re gone.
My outfit:
Cape: Uterqüe, Top & Trousers: Vintage, Shoes: Philip Hogg via custommade,
Gloves: Luvaria Ulisses Lisboa, Sunglasses: Hassan Hajjaj aka Andy Wahloo for Poppy Lissiman
Pictures: Marcel Steiner
