in the process of leaving the womb of the world

  Yesterday I visited the exhibition “Circle of memory”by Eleanor Coppola.  I took 51 photos from inside the womb-part: the walls are made of straw, it smells musty and safe, it is VERY dark inside. The wall you see in front has been used as a memory-place for hundreds of little white notes from visitors: messages to their loves ones, and often just poetry, words coming from the soul in this strange and welcoming exhibition. Eleanor made it when the Coppola’s son died.

I felt like born again.

Below another photo: I liked to move the camera while clicking.


These are a prelude to my experience posted today, Monday the 14th 2011.: What You did not give has no reality

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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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