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ArtistSurrealism, My Wild Love, A girl in a pearl dress adorned her head with a wreath of shells and danced carefully on tiptoe, No dirt, no text.transform it into Churrigueresque Psychosomatic Magicalism
She lived inside a pearl somebody had forgotten to remember. When the lid opened, she began turning to “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” by Iron Maiden. Nobody had wound the box in years. She ran while standing perfectly still, circling a finish line somewhere beyond childhood. Pearls covered her dress like little white clocks. I listened from impossibly far away. Memory is like that: a music box in a house you left years ago, still playing while the ballerina runs forever.
