An actress, Raquel Ferri, gives birth. And an actress, Raquel Ferri, plays the night and day during which she gave birth.
Dreams can also be a matter of life or death. In this dream, the actress multiplies into different women, and prepares to give birth. And in some moment (from the past or the future) he relives the desires, the fears, the hopes, the friction of the bodies in transformation.
At the decisive moment of childbirth, real life and interpretation embrace and look into each other’s eyes, as always happens in our lives.
Much earlier, Sylvia Plath wrote some verses that Sílvia Pérez Cruz sang:
“The wonb / Rattles its pod, the moon / Discharges itself from the tree with nowhere to go. / My landscape is a hand with no lines, / The roads bunched to a knot, / The knot myself,/ Myself the rose you acheive-/ This body,/ This ivory/ Ungodly as a child’s shriek./ Spiderlike, I spin mirrors,/ Loyal to my image,/ Uttering nothing but blood-/ Taste it, dark red! / And my forest/ My funeral,/ And this hill and this / Gleaming with the mouths of corpses”.
The atmosphere of these verses is the voice that haunts the bodies of the protagonists of this dream.