I ... have nothing. Tired, ill, constantly. Things feel so heavy, weighing on my chest, making breathing difficult — weighing on my mind, making cerebration difficult.
Wordlessness.
Take it away, Claude ...
Claude Cahun, Self Portrait, 1920
Claude Cahun, Self Portrait, 1928
Claude Cahun, Self Portrait, 1938
"There is too much of everything. I keep silent. I hold my breath. I curl up in a ball, I give up my boundaries, I retreat towards an imaginary center ... I have my head shaved, my teeth pulled and my breasts cut off — everything that bothers my gaze or slows it down — the stomach, the ovaries, the conscious and cysted brain. When I have nothing more than a heartbeat to note, to perfection, I will have won." - Claude Cahun, Aveux non Avenus, 1930
I want back my naiveté.
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