[Watercolours on plaster]

hands which knead plaster
plaster that moulds hands
scarred hands, living witnesses

plaster which reproduces, faithfully
every cut, every wrinkle, every fold
lines, all telling stories

and on the gypsum, lines that draw faces
faces shaped by time
faces showing experiences
piercing eyes, shocking, touching,
mouths that are able to speak, even painted
skins eroded by brushing caresses
caresses moulded by hands
hands kneading the skin, 

skin that wants to be gypsum
fragile but almost immortal

[Ink on paper]

There is no way back on the draw,
like there is no way back in life.
Ink does not allow turning backs.
It is almost scaring, at the very beginning,
when you start using the pencil
to insinuate proportions.
But once you let go the fear of mistake,
you concentrate on the technique, and then,
it is all left to the magic of letting it happen,
and admit the small imperfections.
But that is the beauty of life.
You only have to let her hit into you:
the experiences,
the looking in somebody’s eyes,
the feelings…
And there you start to notice:
you are alive.
And it is almost easy

Licencia de Creative Commons
CREÄtion by Inés Legemaate is licensed under a Creative Commons Reconocimiento-NoComercial-SinObraDerivada 4.0 Internacional License.

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