The girl on page XVI.01

• The Castaway's Wife

Mixed Media - Acrylic, gouache, and watercolor 42x59.4cm

 

She was the faithful reflection of the sadness of a Sunday afternoon. In her hands, she held something gray and dry that she called life—a fragile life, full of patches. She wore the splendor of a national holiday, yet she was a victim of the parades that turned her into an object rather than a person. Through the window, everything was reflections; the dark walls that protected her enhanced the opacity of her eyes, weary from an excess of chemical dreams. She was sadness itself, the incomprehensible sadness of a Sunday afternoon.