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Don’t Worry for Me, I can’t be Saved

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And who cares if I remain in my loss, if I cross the sight of the abyss or keep exploring the darkest depths of what we’re too used to call our world. Here is only brightness, just as light as the rest seems heavy. Alena Eliseeva musing for Patrizia Pepe‘s latest catalogue. Just as many colors as there is grey around, as much energy as there is that horrendous apathy squeezing our most positive feelings. If something drips out of all these few lines, is how much of a precious gift the fact we own our eyes is. All the art is in the way we use them to escape from reality, the best (barely) legal psychotrope out there. Everything around is a pure mystery that can’t be saved and we’d rather forget, bury somewhere under a blooming tree.