When I stand in front of the mirror and look into my eyes, no matter how hard I try to see both of them at the same time, I can’t. It’s like trying to see the observer within me. It’s impossible. I try the exercise once more and end up laughing, amused.
Then I observe myself with that observer and ask: who might be inside me? Sometimes I think there is a being (without a distinct sex, just a being): a deceased philosopher, writer, poet, with a certain degree of madness, reincarnated in me… but it’s not me. There are days when it is very inspired, and others when it simply isn’t there.
There is something that connects. In 2020, I discovered El grafógrafo by Salvador Elizondo, and it resonated deeply with me. When I recall it, I find myself within it.
This text disconnects when I realize that something connects. And I find myself finding myself in authors who are not me.
Photography by Regina Arellano Muñoz
