Sun and hair
The city has edges and where there are edges, matter folds, like lips. The Sea: a headscarf. The sky: a new scarf each day. (I’m sailing to an Island). And the air? Lilac wind. The body is a caprice, an island, a girl. Hélène Lagonelle. Her lips with Marguerite Duras’. Soft and tightly pressed, they sew a wrinkled edge inside the book. Wave. Hair shines loose. And all of the story shines.
Photos: Rodrigo Ghattas