My daughter is a dream; maybe like the Little Prince for Saint-Exupéry.
She has no name, since we both think that names are the first of many boundaries that surround us.
From the first moments we chose to make our common destiny, she and I promised to share our mindscapes about boundaries, and the ways that these walls impose upon our will; we “seek the essence of the things that surround us, in an attempt to discover their nature and at the same time to understand ourselves”.
My daughter and I have left our bubble and have taken refuge in the history of literature to re-experience our being as stories. Books are our current resort. In each work, she is present; she can live, over time, meanwhile in words. Each work has borrowed its name from a writer, who created a scene that can be visualized, reenacted – beyond lines, without boundaries …