Revealing the wound, unveiling what is printed on the body in order to break silence. In this way, fabric is no longer a mere sign-holder representing material objects, but rather a mirror image of the mind's multifocal projections, subconscious, and memories.
Once the cut has been made, the skin is visibly reviled, violated, and used up to the extent that there is nothing left to hide or to protect: the gag has fallen away, and we are silent no more.
Memory becomes a hodgepodge of sliced flesh, hanging from the final pieces of tissue that dangle in the void, propped up by its fragility.
Brenda R. Fernández