“The mask of apparent calm, of mundane tranquility, of the joy, at once small and bright, of not knowing when this thing I can skin will be ripped off, when this thing I call mouth will lose the flesh that surrounds it, when these things I call eyes will come upon the black silence of a knife.”

“The mask of apparent calm, of mundane tranquility, of the joy, at once small and bright, of not knowing when this thing I can skin will be ripped off, when this thing I call mouth will lose the flesh that surrounds it, when these things I call eyes will come upon the black silence of a knife.”

— Agustina Bazterrica