13

Aprile
13 Aprile 2023

GIU­SEP­PI­NA

0 CommentI
74 visualizzazioni
45 sec

“Somos nue­stra memo­ria, somos ese qui­mé­ri­co museo de for­mas incon­stan­tes, ese mon­tón de espe­jos rotos”.

(Jor­ge Luis Bor­ges)

At Giuseppina’s eve­ry mir­ro­ring sur­fa­ce is cove­red. She is gra­dual­ly beco­ming alien to her­self. Alzheimer’s crea­tes a fal­se per­cep­tion of one’s ima­ge. This misper­cep­tion cau­ses the incur­ren­ce of a sort of seni­le demen­tia, the mir­ro­red ima­ge looks the­re­fo­re reals and it hurts. Giuseppina’s archaic memo­ry crum­bles into her pre­sent, gene­ra­ting a con­ti­nuous fee­ling of fear. Con­trol beco­mes hard under tho­se cir­cum­stan­ces. This is why she deve­lops a maniac atta­ch­ment to objec­ts: clo­thes may thus be humans, and also pho­tos or the tele­vi­sion. She could talk to them for minu­tes and think about them as real. I spent some time with Giu­sep­pi­na and her fami­ly, and I found out the­re is a com­mon ground behind memo­ry, the safe spa­ce that makes her catch a sen­se of fami­ly, whe­ther uncon­scious. I wit­nes­sed this spa­ce whi­le loo­king at the inte­rac­tions Giu­sep­pi­na has with her daughters and nie­ces. They help her buil­ding a strong col­lec­ti­ve memo­ry, althou­gh it is not the same as it was.

 

Con­di­vi­di:
I commenti sono chiusi