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Author's Note
About this Fanzine Series
Today.
Noon
Tha sun like a scapel:
walking = one page a day
Nothing more.
The rest is the noise of a body crawling over the void.
Fisrt page:
this one.
A book fell into my hands that is a window open to the universe; every three lines I can make a wish, even if it is a fleeting one.
I want to talk about gravity in this sacred setting. I will improvise with you as if I were every musician in a jazz band. But, when choosing the soloist, I undoubtedly choose the double bass. Perhaps because my grandfather played it.
Or because my ancestors—a pair of lovers—fled from Italy to Catalonia with one on their backs. But above all, I choose it because the double bass is the bridge that unites percussion with melody. I simply stuck with the bass so I could have both.
The same happens with my photographs: they exist in that limbo between painting and realism. And, if I stop to analyze it, the same happens with my entire life.
I will never forget when a drunk friend warned me that I would always be rejected for not fully belonging to any side.
Perhaps that is the reason why, at times, gravity is different for me. There are days when I feel that, just by breathing a little deeper, I can lift off and fly.
While on others, I crawl through the underground, like a winged earthworm.
Maybe because of this, I will never be fully accepted: because I am the one who oscillates between two worlds.
Searching for balance, Between not anchoring myself too deeply, and not escaping the balloon, like helium.
Every Stone with roots is a heart that
learned to beat beneath the earth
The touch of water
A heart of puddles and clouds
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