WRITTEN word & a golden photographic snapshot

MANI•FESTO

This year I will turn 57 years. In September. I was born in 1968, the year of the intellectual revolution. Next month, which will be March, is my month of complementarity, and therefore contains everything that I as a September born do not naturally possess. The qualities and characteristics of a March born, are those that I have to consciously decide to develop and integrate.

We all know of the Piesces and the Aries. Either or are very intuitive and creative and, very courageous and action-oriented too. At least on paper.

One of the side effects of traumatic events happening in childhood can be the stagnation of growth. Parts of the psyche stay the age at which time the incidents took place, and prevents one from maturing in step with the biological process.

For years, that felt indeed like an obstruction. As my body matured, my mind was still way younger, why as an adult and meant to take charge, my mind just didn’t think like that as it still belonged to a child’s mind. 

-------------------------------------------------

If you would like to, do support my art & writing, just press the image, and in no time, it will take you to Buy-Me-A-Coffee-land >>

Press image

-------------------------------------------------

Yet as I shed the silent drops of frozen fluid, comtained in the ether of my aura, including the grey contours of dirt and the slimy acrimony of sticky soot, I stepped out of the restraining orders of the cultural and civilized family content. I see now that being young and playful despite the lines around the eyes or the silver streaks in the hair, the soft wobbly flesh on my thighs and the inhibited hearing reaching the sky, coming with age, is both a natural progression and a wonderful contradiction making space for the most imminent and playful creation.

Why, I hereby proclaim in the darkest of valleys, in the most ostracized places of spaces, in the loneliest minutes at night or day - light doesn’t quite seem to matter, to always and forever stay playful and truthful to these contradictions: always and until no more, liquid running through the redness of my veins, the transparencies of my tear canals, and the golden Fontaine of my urinary tract • PS not to mention the taboo end of (b)anality.

Press the image and see for yourself, there is nothing but gold:

Thank you for reading and pressing, absorbing and paying and now f*** off!

// Camilla’s
☕️