Upstairs, the smell of resin that impregnates all the walls of the studio slaps the chastity of any subject and suddenly disappears, everything disappears.

The hair is covered in plastic to prevent perpetual bonds, four cellulose plugs protect ears and nose to prevent fatal seepage: the world can no longer be heard or smelled.

The cord pressed, chewed, gives a strident internal sound, which in contact with the teeth electrifies the body from top to bottom.

Being immersed with eyes closed the world is no longer seen, the cold wet mass acts as a welcome balm perfusion.

The plaster hardens trapping with envy the cellulose tenant of the nose, unleashing at that moment a whole pack of uncertain outflows provoked by the knowledge of all the elements, singling out the feverish moisturizer that tried to cover the face with a crumbly, viscose and unstable white mask.

In an instant, all of this dementia inundates and shakes mercilessly and treacherously to the furthest cranny of the skull.

José Ramón Lidó Rico