It is me tomorrow and I'm already thirty and could  be sixty in my young girls dress, and I sit down on the granite terrace of the last house. We form the eternal couple, me in my blue dress from the old days, he in his granite suit. Now I am sick and tired of standing at the shores of death and sick of substitutes. And though I am the princess of anterior time and the daughter of a dead god, and the mistress of tombstone inscriptions, of books of stone, of seawater gowns, I am not happy. I want him to come, I deplore loneliness, boredom, deception, I too am betrayed, like his mother, I hate beauty, dust, patience, passion, the stubborn wish for death, silence, the the mobility of the soul, the deprivation of the body, and I rejoice in my power to speak, in the fact that I am ten years old, thirty years old or sixty and that I can say kiss off to death.  --Inside,  Hélène Cixous

Stone Books  collage  14" x 17"  2016