Painting by Maria Luísa Capela

Waving bodies, sailors from a glorious sea. Delicate asparagus grow with no light impediments, their roots facing the frailty of the humus, gliding through this tyrannous garden, an open field of salty green, forcefully socializing. Entities depending on water and on salt, residing within still waters, dusty, muddy, keen on hydrated slopes. Salicornia is her name. Firm individuals springing from the accurate frontier between earth’s arid heat and the sky’s immense reflex. Individuals emerging from the scenery, like drowsy moss within the sap of sea and air. Halophytes – resilient inhabitants of moving sands, shifty with sodium fertilizers. Within the palpitating heart of the sea, coral colonies leap underneath the surface, as color explosions, endangered by human intervention. Speaking of isolation, we proclaim pristine coral reefs, vast gardens, heated, collapsing. Like an unretrievable short-circuit. Breeding harmony – distraught attempt to distrust an unmerited inheritance.