Cristina Volpe

I have a yearning for something that doesn’t exist, a fantasy which resides in my mind. My gentle obsession with women as I behold them, the lust and desire, stay within me. I register their gestures meticulously, akin to watching the performance of a stage actor: the stage actor as the ultimate object of desire. Anticipation of pleasure is better than the fulfilment of it.

“I glance for a moment, my tongue stiffens into silence, a rush of blood booms in my ears and my eyes go dark” (Sappho).