in the mouth of the wolf paula arbide
Grandma’s house is over there by the stars. I’m on the other side. In the dark forest beneath the dark cosmos. Lost, no way out of here; there is no better way for one to find oneself. These paths do not lead to Grandma’s house. The stars are my guide and there is no star that can shine without darkness. So I have no need for breadcrumbs or a yellow-brick road, nor do I have use for a rainbow. I am not some kind of faery tale freak. I’m a suicide Little Red Riding Hood.

Dress as you please, go to the wolf and get home late -said my Grandma from the other side of the stars. She slipped the keys to the house into my basket. A candle, lipstick and perfumes make up this curious key ring. Into the mouth of the wolf I go. It’s deep and dark. I touched the stars when the wolf bit into me. The wound is open. Eros and Tanatos. The cosmos turns red. R.I.P. Essential if you want to be a gothic heroine for modern girls. I have found myself. I did it my way. I’m home with grandma.

model-dancer: mirjam dorthea
text by: nerea arrien
photos by: paula arbide