Has the perversion of humanity thought always been programmed deep inside the cognitive structure of his mother tongue ? Or is it the confusion of tongues by the Lord to Babel that then deprived humanity of a part of his thoughtful conscience ? Because there is an inexplicable chaos of all eternity, a psychic cataclysm, quantifiable but unspeakable, which is given to too many women to know.
Threatened, insulted, wounded, they are victims of intimate terrorism. Aggressed, humiliated, mutilated, they become the object of a man, the object of an hour, of a day, of a month, or a year, the object of an indelible invasive robbery. Destroyed, alienated and privated, they are subjected to a physical attack whose emotional grenade explodes in the heart, depositing unalterable and permanent debris, erasing everything from their candor.
Between two retchs, they find themselves swimming in an ocean of tears, taking a shameful swell and a sea of hatred. The bastard drizzle causes a salt of rage and bitterness to flow down their faces, consuming them slowly, burning their eyes and gnawing their skin.
These terrorists devastate everything inside these women, aspiring each crumb of their humanity. Bursting thieves of souls, they sweep up the smiles of these women, leaving them as dead, blowing their joy and pride, leaving only an affective desert… An empty look….
Then comes nothingness… A hole in space-time… A scream without soundtrack… A spectral presence… Flashes in black and white… And a dizzying fall… When rising up, a dull reflection in the broken mirror… Is it their own image ? Was it a nightmare ? Suddenly, an echo… A sound becomes clear. A shape. A hand reaching out. No…. Yes ? Is it a mirage ? It’s so fuzzy, we could easily miss it. A ghotsly appearance, we hope that it gets them out of that deadly storm.
The after-effects are heavy, the thought is broken, but they are no longer alone. Some of them have remained entangled in the depths of this sadistic maelstrom, but they want to reborn and rebuilt themselves. The internal conflict that animates them will have chosen the psychological vendetta, which will take the form of a shell and armour. « You tried to break me ? I’m the one who wins. Look, I’m still there. »
The mental phoenix will make them stronger than they imagine. A primary and animal instinct will surface again. All claws out there, they’ll be brighter and more alert than ever. Ready to take out the fangs and bite, small long-shaped pimples will begin to grow along their backs, like upright harrows, fortified rampart of the intimate. Zoomorphic humanoid, their pointed shield will be their best asset. Prophylactic shielding with sharp spurs, it’s better not to approach it. Unless the Hystrix has given you a permission to enter in her safe house ?
Macha Poirier, 2017