ÖSTERREICHISCHE GALERIE BELVEDERE

A soaring eagle in the sky. A martyr hung upon the cross. A broken girl, teetering on the edge of a bridge. Her head cradled by clouds and her feet rooted to the land, as her arms, like leafless branches, welcomed the horizon in a wide embrace.

A gentle breeze held her aloft, with death before her and the world behind her. She was not, however, interested in crossing the threshold between the two – instead, she hoped the proximity to the first may launch her headfirst into the second.

Soporific music was blasted in an attempt to block out the sounds of reality, creating an impossible silence. This sensation of peace was virtually unknown to her.

This same music floundered the pleas of a broken man who wished to plunge this girl back into the real world – however unreal it felt. His calls were as lost to the wind as her cares, and he grew more and more determined to save this soul he barely even knew.

He whispered to himself not to startle the girl and send her hurtling to her death. He could see her shoulders gently raising and falling as she took deep breaths – a sensation of profound dismay took over his limbs and he saw his arms shooting out in her direction. Time froze as his fingers wrapped around the hem of her dress, which was as diaphanous as the fabric of reality.

-2019-