The girl is in pieces, wrapping herself around things, furniture and people. A traveller of supple limbs… restless, knotting herself between features, walls and items in the room. Always compelled to fold at the waist. Loosening the lines of a constantly moving narrative. Never concluding, nor peeling down to one thread.
“Everything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.”
― Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star