The Boxroom

Rosie Jackson 2004
kolorierte Zinkradierung, 6 x 8 cm

“When he was young the land was as green as glass, and the sun slid its fingers between the rice like platinum ribbons. He ran naked on the ginger soil to the temple pool which captured water from the turquoise river, imprisoning it in a perfect square. The water swirled round the pool, discovering and rediscovering its boundaries until it escaped through a hole. Then it divided and meandered into lush deltas behind the temple wall. It curved past the paralyzed stone gods who grimaced or made love on the parapets. (...) But then the boy was weaned from the sun and strangled by chill winters in an unlit land. His hands turned to ice and burnt like fire when the blood returned. His skin could not breathe, smothered by thick garments, and his feet could not run, weighted down by leather shoes. When the faint sun broke through the clouds his heart sang mournfully with the dancing dragon and tinkling bells.”

Englischer Originaltext aus The Boxroom von Rosie Jackson