Symbolic pages that are these stones, maps of the soul in which are also found the bodily experience of contact with the water of the sea and the pebbles that were once divertimento, intimacy and memory and that have gone on gradually to expand into that kind of incredible ‘library’ that they are now. Like little notes piled up on themselves, these stones sculpted by water and time produce a strange new sensation in inviting us to decipher their messages and to attribute to whom they belong (if having once been written they are not already ours for always) those words, so eloquent in their silence.
Sometime, someday, we have all written our names in that special place that it was a tree, a wall, a leaf. Paloma Navares converts that innocent, intimate and ordinary act of spontaneously writing on some chance support into a potent exercise of memory, a tribute to those who had the courage to share their deepest fears, their recollections, their melancholy and even the words with which they wrote their farewell. Rewritten for themselves in an astonishingly intimate anonymous performance, these same words that now flicker over stones trace the stations of that journey into memory whose guide are the words of Paul Celan, Alejandra Pizarnik, Ann Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Alfonsina Storni, Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson, Camille Claudel, Cesare Pavese, Charles Baudelaire, Albert Camus, Antonin Artaud, Franz Kafka, Carl Jung and so many others.

Pilar Ribal