Vega ALMENA LOPEZ
Beaux-Arts de Paris
Artist’s Note
Who doesn’t love lines? We all are single dots searching for a line. I would die for a line, I need a line to be alive. Self discovery is the closest living experience to death, because being alive is the transition from dot to line. The knowledge of a one self dot-nature is the reminder of the true nature of that line. Please just give me one. One who would let me see the stars.
She lifted her clear bright eyes toward God's sun, and for the first time her eyes were wet with tears. I just like I look at myself and like how the fuck did I spend my entire life building this like my body my personality and my soul around what I think men desire just like a fraud. My poor mermaid, she is just looking desperately for her line. She is a nomadsexual.
You are so much like her that you almost replace the memory of her in my heart. She belongs to that holy temple, therefore it is my good fortune that I have you. I don’t know uh I’ve always thought of puberty as a broadening or a deepening or like a thickening. Which I think is like why I was always like small and thin and delicate … irreversible forever fucking metamorphosis just like fucking terrifying and end up on the other side like stuck or even worse just like a man like through and through and then feminity would always be elusive distant unreachable but I lift my clear bright eyes toward God's sun, and for the first time they are wet with tears.
I think about beautiful things that are also broad and thick something like the ocean
I think that I want to be as beautiful as the ocean.
Cause the oceans strong as fuck and feminine as fuck and like both are what makes the ocean the ocean
The little mermaid lifted her clear bright eyes toward God's sun, and for the first time her eyes were wet with tears.
Felt her body dissolve in foam soul soul soul.
Tears are like dots,
Just give me a line.