To weave new roots. I grew wings and tore mine from the ground. I could not reach full flight until breaking away from the foundations. Roots. Wings. All is useful, all is connected, each has its moment, but they need freedom from each other, to annihilate each other, this is the way. I cannot spend all time in the air, I must come down to rest, where my wings fold and the body drops to be fed by the earth. Planted. I am on a journey now toward reconnection, threads are woven, there is comfort, safety, silence, a nest, waiting to be born in the precise moment that this cave becomes a trap, a cage, a limit to be torn town. It is suffocating. Hypnotising. A seduction of isolation. I need air, again. To be limitless. I’ve forgotten how. Just cut the roots. The body remembers.

Moments from Anam Cara – Dwelling Body
Part of the Venice International Performance Art Week, “Body Matters”, Palazzo Mora, 2018

Photographs © Lorenza Cini