I can see my image through the lent of the camera... absorbing the lights and reflecting the shadows, it is like to be in front of a mirror but less consciously... I know I must not pay attention to the image in front of me, hypnotic as a sirens 's song and try to hold the look on the diaphragm, opening and shutting quickly.I 'm starting a dialogue with an object that doesn't have eyes, and doesn't have mouth but it's watching you and it is speaking to you .
Sometimes the conversation is interrupted for a brush blow, spray all over, a bit of wax on my hair... I can feel the texture of my hair become thicker and thicker... and then again a dusted of powder, the sticky gloss's brush on the lips. I'm wearing a corsett that wraps my hips and my waist making it a tiny circumference, leaving me breathless. I love when a job turns to the end,the peaceful feeling when the lights of the reflectors are swiched off. I can slide into my clothes, i remove the make up on my face and the mascara marks a long black line on my cheeks and finally i can see the real me appearing again.
