I was 17 years old
My mother died faraway from home
It was 1991 and she was 35
The last memory I have of her is a phone call
That I’ve given for granted
She used to be a very fragile and sensible woman.
And I didn’t have the chance to know her deeply enough.
For the following two years my brain played tricks on me
I saw her everywhere
I stopped women in the street thinking they where her
I saw her at the supermarket, at the movies, getting out of a store,
Passing next to me on a bicycle.
It was disarming
It changed my way of seeing people
It changed my way of perceiving them
My mother, who is not here with me anymore, but is inside every person I meet while I shop, while I listen to a song at a concert,
She is inside every person who suffers.
Who hides from the others
Who thinks there’s no hope left.
She is inside the smile of those who find refuge in a bottle or smoking heroin
She is inside those who celebrate life awkwardly, in their own ways.
And inside the desperation of the lonely and in a child’s hands.
That’s why “Vampyres” was born.
Because in the end I will continue looking for her, within the hidden gazes of the people that enchant me because of their fragility.
She is there.
(Vampyres is dedicated to all those who look at the moon and are still amazed by how wonderful it is. It’s for those who decided to be themselves, no matter what the rest of the world says is “right”. It’s about those people who make us feel uncomfortable with their unconventional beauty and their uneasiness and those who scare us because they are free. They are the ‘vampyres’.)
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