Description

Poetry on the weaving:

What the body knows

Love drowning in the crater of the volcano.
Worn out skin,
longs for its softness under the fingernails.

I dare you
to lick the salt of the tears
on the rosy cheeks,
to bite into the silence of the movement in the night
when body is resting.

The blood meandering
through the streets of the unknown,
gushing down the spine,

Mirror on the hallway wall.

Confessing what eyes have seen
In twilights.

All wall hangings are unique. The poetry added to each weaving is the original work of the artist (NB).