…and in me an old woman rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, / … / Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. / In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman / Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Sylvia Plath, „Mirror“

 

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Pomegranate

Flor Garduño - Con Corona, México, 2000
Flor Garduño, „Con Corona“ (México, 2000)

Who knows
if the pomegranate
knows, deep down,
that it has a
different name.
Who knows
if maybe
I too have a
name that is
different from me

Inger Christensen, from „Letter in April“

„Hope“ is the thing with feathers…

There are many roads in Garduño’s photographs: some go to parties, others to graveyards, others, simply to the farmer’s fields. But sooner or later all of them cross that threshold of incense where, uncertainly, nature and art blend so that mankind may have a margin of whimsy, freedom, or significance on the face of the gods.

Carlos Fuentes