For years she had swallowed it up
in daily doses –
the skin&bones models in little black dresses –
she followed the rules,
and even accepted to be a good loser,
standing on scales,
fighting her standard 70 kilos.
It took her another 20 years
and dozens of relationships
to not realise anything –
she is still trapped in an unforgiving
net of laws, traditions, PR tricks,
from which it is difficult and even dangerous
to extricate oneself.
“If I had to break with tradition,
I would have needed heroic courage
and I am not a hero”,
Virginia Wolf once has written.
In an odyssey of roles and experimentations
she now began to armour her personality,
emerging as a fitness connoisseur and a diet guru
in her conquest of the modern celebration of a woman
of the Western culture.
None of this identities define her, however!
What defines her is starvation!
In the mornings the starved lady
hurries to work through her iron and glass male-city,
in which common sense is in ruins,
words have lost their meanings
and have been used to create the stories
trusted by most of the citizens like her,
a metropolis
where the body of the city
and the body of a human being
have become a hybrid,
a commercial cathedral,
an erotic icon,
a trembling skyscraper,
the statue of Liberty,
the Trump Tower,
a skin&bones building
in a little black dress
swallowing up moving words and pictures
advertising the changes
never to be achieved.
