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There was confinement, the absence of the other, embodied and alive yesterday. So we pretended the absentee was there. And suddenly another appeared, on the screen, image before becoming an image again, a potential image of a face waiting to be reflected by the one who receives it head-on. Reflections of great nudity, brutal in their mechanical grasp to the point of becoming grotesque, sometimes revealing what in reality is retained, composed, often hidden. They will be, once painted, mirrors that remember.

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