STORY OF UNDERWATER

At the bottom of the sea the sun never sets. The sun, which seems to go out in the waves, has no place in the ocean depths. LAYA swam fearlessly among the corals and sponges of the seabed, of a dense, blackish blue; a viscous darkness for human eyes, but not for her, who possessed it, controlled it. It wasn't like that on dry land where darkness possessed her, controlled her. It infiltrated her body more and more every day: a tarry poison that penetrated her eyes, nose, mouth and filled her head, polluting her ideas; then he went down to force her breath, to numb her limbs. Although LAYA felt that something was wrong, that it wasn't right, that she had to rebel, she never did. The darkness comforted her, cradled her, clutching her organs, her muscles, her bones that she could no longer move. And she didn't want to move. When the darkness was thicker, his heart, so impregnated, slowed down so much, stuck, that LAYA watched him concentrated, wondering how faintly he could beat before stopping.

In his world it was not like that. In his world, even darkness was his subject.

He swam to the surface; hidden among the rocks she looked at the city where she had no place she could call her own, where all affection was a stranger. He watched the sunset color the horizon pink and lilac. He watched the sea sparkle with gold and wondered what could be so precious there, in the dry, for which it was worth facing so many humiliations, so many failures, so many losses. He watched his tail flicker under the surface of the water which gradually became an increasingly intense crimson: the princess, the symbol of a proud people, the leader of a valiant army, swam in those red, violent waters. There she was not placid, meek or compliant, there she was not herself, there she was free from herself.

She plunged back into the inflamed waters, swimming energetically towards the bottom, where she was alive and light and strong, where she didn't need or want to hide. He spotted a scorpionfish camouflaged among the rocks: he pounced on it and scrubbed it unceremoniously with his sharp teeth. The flesh tearing deliciously, the brittle bone shattering under her jaws gave her a thrill of satisfaction. She felt no pity for that fish, as she was sure no one felt for her.

STORY OF A FAILURE

What does a woman do when she has had a family, has wanted to forget her dreams, has decided that she no longer wants anything and becomes a shadow of herself? A woman who had a good career and who now has to take care of socks and sheets? We talk about how a woman is always brought or forced by some man to devote himself to the family and to abandon his career. Men never willingly accept a woman who is good and important. Let’s talk about how a woman feels when she looks back on her past and sees a different woman. A woman who was an artist and now no longer creates anything. A blocked, diverted and repressed creative nature. I am not speaking of a woman of the 19th century but of a woman of today, of this century. A woman who secretly mourns her failures and disappointments. The world has not helped her to be able to realize herself. Men have never given her a hand. He has never received help from anyone. A woman who feels alone and who has lost the desire to have a beautiful life. What would you tell her that you have had the opportunity to be able to stay on your path as men?

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