Hundreds of endless days I was bursting with you from inside. It was all born within me, sprouted up, grew vastly and with no exit being found, it all wilted, it all rotted away. Useless. Unused. In those days when all my body felt as if filled with metal chips, I was thinking if it was similar to your pain, if it made us related.

What does your blood crave for ? What is your blood afraid of ?
You breathe my air, you sweat out my water, we move to inevitable, to decay, to the end where everything transforms and starts again.
Or no.

All images © Anna Block