There aren’t any lights; just the warm illumination allowed to pass through the spider webs in the windows. The dust, like a veil, reveals and conceals memories and stories of what used to be a family household, allowing the viewer to connect with two separate eras.
In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren't there to be found
or at least I can't find them. And perhaps
it's better if I don't find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?
— C.P. Cavafy
Keyhole, 2022
The art of reading destiny in the hands lines is as old as human beings. For centuries people have learned to read their future by observing the shape, contour and lines that cross the palms of their hands. Like an open book, the hands carry on an encrypted story, showing up a map with the personality of each individual and where the key to their character is printed. Some people even compare the hands lines with elements of nature: if the life of a tree can be known by its veins and its internal rings, are not the marks in our skin also indicative?
Las lineas de mi mano, 2022