The Lost Child

Rosie Jackson 2004
kolorierte Zinkradierung, 6 x 8 cm

“The trees on each side of the lawn stretched in single file along the lines of perspective, and met at a perfect point. Their jade leaves mutated to turquoise through the girl's half-closed eyes. She was in a jungle pierced with light and laced with dew. She sank deliriously into layers of fleshy leaves, staining her feet with green blood until she found the passion flower poking fragrant, fragile, tender, towards the sun. When the sun faded she was in a jungle, steaming, pulsating, crawling with carnivores. The girl opened her eyes to the tame trees along the lawn, to the regimented clones planted by man. She wondered if they could be real. From a distance, the lawn looked unreal too, rocking in waves of potent green towards crisp, unexpected edges. It was bold and undiluted, like a naive painting, except for the soft contours of the sun-dappled corner where the girl lay. But close to, the grass was textured, even rough, and it teased the girl's skin through her light cotton camisole.”

Englischer Originaltext aus The Lost Child von Rosie Jackson