I Wanted Her to Be Mine
At last, I built my own doll, and through the matryoshka—the only doll-that’s-not-a-doll—I understood that even the smallest one, with blurred features, had the right to travel alone… after all, she was the only complete one.
But she had no scent, no holes, no flesh… only color—bright, vibrant—abstract decorations for feminine sarcophagi.
The purity of form and the absence of movement… and you, little girl, learn to stay still like a doll, and it works even when you grow up.
Everyone looks lovely if they stay in just the right position.
Ladies cross their legs in a certain way, while dolls are bent into splendid splits in every little girl’s hands—only to snap back into perfection.
I wanted her to be mine. Read more…
Maria Luisa Imperiali Works & Words 