Simó Molina Solanich
Barcelona
Canon EOS 3, Olympus Mju II
But to myself I am immeasurable; a net whose fibres pass imperceptibly beneath the world. My net is almost indistinguishable from that which it surrounds. It lifts whales–huge leviathans and white jellies, what is amorphous and wandering; I detect, I perceive. Beneath my eye opens–a book; I see to the bottom; the heart–I see to the depths. I know what loves are trembling into fire; how jealousy shoots its green flashes hither and thither; how intricately love crosses love; love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted; I have been torn apart.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
December Orchids 