Ilona Martonfi | PUPA

PUPA No, the dolls whisper. Patched monologues. Skip rope chants. Playing tag. Playing marbles. I came here one year ago. Bombed stone houses. Village of refugees. I only think about the dolls. I made one looking like my mother. Slipping under my skin. In the mirror I see her: she is there, in my body. […]