The desperate attempt of two planets to establish contact, two huge masses a million kilometers apart, throwing meteorites violently. Rocks moving at high speed, as interplanetary messages, as geological gestures that erode before the impact, leaving a circular footprint, a violent void.
A foam object, burnt, that turns into stone.
An instant archeology, temporalities that stretch with heat.
The impossibility of touching each other. And all our accumulated gestures.
When the skin of a jellyfish brushes human skin, a chemical tattoo appears, a hieroglyph as reaction, an ephemeral calligraphy.
The clumsy gesture on a mass of clay deforms it into an unrecognizable stone. Its material begins to lose water and cracks. It shows the image of an unhealed gesture, a dehydrated landscape. The hollow of a pumpkin that has disappeared, over time, until it dries. A spherical void, again, but now like the trace of an organic past.
The shape that appears after touching, repeatedly, a soft object. The accumulation of caresses and gestures, the soft image of a constant friction, of slow heat. And the skin's oil that brightens its surface.
A text made of encounters and caresses, tons of messages, loops of intimacies, codes and exchanges. Emotional entanglements, attempts to be closer.
A constellation of objects and bodies that open up many possibilities and relations, contact as a manifestation of the existence of the other.
And a dense, thick, purple, displaced light that floods and touches everything.
