Trapassate

Crossed by violence in all its forms, psychological, physical, sexual, women victims of abuse are living as in a square that denies them freedom to think, to be, to move, to live. A square that is growing inside of them, which invades their body, their mind, which invade any external relationship and became the space where they live in, a narrow space, where they are locked up, or where, sometimes, they choose to close themselves. The witness of each blow is the skin, is she to be lacerate, to feel flowing tears, poison, pain, time. The skin is pierced, broken, bruised, cut. She becames purple, blue, green, yellow, then rose again , because the skin, we know, it always heals.