I am or was, an acid child firelighter, even with my lashes concealed behind mascara,
smokey eyeliner, blasted red lip, tamed hair in a pile of savoir-faire – my soul is a chimaera
screaming in the dark with a skull buried in a pad and silk slip, crying out so loud
that the sound turns into spiritual alchemy. A tear drops from the balcony cloud
around the turn, the curve, of my chin. A silver river, so close to a graveyard
of dreams which once were so close…, but flooded with tear.
Her name is Lara. She was born in 1984 and since childhood, this nomad has written about the worlds built up in her head. However, when she is too lazy to express herself in with words, she uses her simple drawing skill.