Someone pushes my door and I wake up with a start.
Panties halfway down my ass and last night’s makeup, whose shimmer has turned into a salmon-pink stain with hints of black that abstractly spreads across my face, perfectly matching the shadowy haze left in me by yesterday’s everyday, failed party, with the usual (not so) friends as always.
Minutes earlier, in my dream, Roberto Bolaño appeared… Bolaño comes closer… Bolaño speaks to me… In the dream, Bolaño asks me, “What are you doing in this city where you are poor and unknown?”, and I answer that I don’t know, that I don’t know because I truly know there is the possibility of moving through a now in another place, of being in the center of this country, which is center but also more north, the north of America.
And slipping into the Savoy Cinema and watching planes pass by in the parking lot of the abandoned mall, kilometers before the airport.
Photography by Andrea Sánchez Sánchez
Emerging, conceptual, contemporary, and suspiciously pleasant artist. Her work spans in situ installations, graphic design, rather bad drawings, and somewhat unfortunate texts.