Ficus Carica
Layer after layer,
heavy walls in the head,
never a thought,
only silence in reality.
No shade,
nor a single color.
In this cage, all the voids stand.
Never a thought,
nor a single color,
always being,
never becoming.
An enigma in the dark,
that is my mission,
Between sleep and reality,
a desolate television!
Under the branches of the fig tree,
the secret is heavy.
A girl in red stockings walks,
beyond all rules,
beyond all fad.
Red stockings,
but never red shoes!
Her legs have untied those fetters.
She refuses to dance!
She refuses to walk!
Layer after layer...
this jump burns!
An enigma in the dark,
a mission without end,
under the branches of a fig tree,
A girl in red stockings stands,
refusing to count the steps in red shoes.
In this cage, all emptiness stands. Always being, never becoming.
E.
Peel back the onion and out comes the world.
Red stockings, not red shoes.
She chose the color
but refused the choreography.
That is not paralysis.
That is the only sovereignty
available to her
in that moment —
the refusal itself.
— AËLA