Inhabited Words

A kimono in which the words from the books by writers such as Carmen Martín Gaite, Carmen Laforet, Cecilia Böhl de Faber y Ruiz de Larrea, Marguerite Duras and Josefina Aldecoa, that I have lived surrounded by for most of my life because they were in my mother's library, take on a new life. She is an avid reader, and her home is full of shelves where the books are stacked in rows and more rows, although over the years she has had to stop reading on paper, because her eyesight no longer allows it.

The pages of the books, covered by a veil of silk muslin, are arranged forming a path along the garment. The paper falls apart or wrinkles, becoming a new tissue. Words that almost disappear, texts that are difficult to read, but that are still there in essence, covered by a silken veil that conceals the writings, like oblivion, inhabited words that resonate within us.

This piece talks about oblivion, about rediscovered silence and the passage of time; about how sometimes it is necessary to listen with the soul to discover something new. Time transforms things, deconstructs to rebuild, transforms our reality.