There was nothing in this limpid water, only the reflection of her feet – What I Saw in the Water by Frida Kahlo

 

What I Saw in the Water by Frida Kahlo

There was nothing in this limpid water, only the reflection of her feet. As she closed her eyes to feel the warmth of the temperature penetrate the pores of her skin, she felt an itch, a discomfort on the surface of her legs. The red which was applied to her toe nails had dissipated and leaked into the depths of the bath.

There was nothing in this limpid water, only the reflection of her feet. As she re-opened her eyes, she choked and found herself being barely able to breathe. Suffocating, she looked at her feet and witnessed the disaster of her life. This feeling of appeasement was a dark omen, a sly and clever instant which only existed to dupe her. Her heart suddenly accelerated at the view of a landscape condensing her past and her failures.

There was nothing in this limpid water, only the reflection of her feet. She saw herself at the age of three, trying hard to please her parents, doubting herself and feeling infinite guilt over the imperfection of the daughter she imagined she was. She saw herself evolving into a young woman and not owning her body, rejecting shapes and femininity. She threw out of her mouth the disgust for the person she was becoming and whom she could not control. She saw herself being used by malicious personalities hidden in friends, family members and acquaintances. People whom she believed were better than her in any kind of way.

There was nothing in this limpid water, only the reflection of her feet. She saw herself crashing down to pieces like an edifice covered in flames, instead she was covered in tears. Birds hide to die. Surrounded by friends and enemies, love and envy, she found in the comfort of her mind the nest which would give her the strength to follow her heartbeats in a journey which she found interminable. The more she battled to make peace with herself, the more she had to deal with a world made of principles which she never shared.

There was nothing in this limpid water, only the reflection of her feet. She saw herself on an island, a symbol of her camouflaged isolation. As hard as she tried to take part, do as others, she failed, over and over again. Will she die like the bird laid on those branches? Running away, sailing towards the Underworld was perhaps her only hope to cease the pain. Like the stream of blood running along her feet deep into the water, the agony never stopped bleeding. As she discovered with her own eyes all her attempts to live what some call a ‘beautiful life’, Truth materialised in her mind. It made her swear to never tell anyone what It was about to reveal. Unafraid by the gloom, she promised to keep it to herself. The Truth whispered to her heart that she secretly wished this journey would end.

This water was never limpid, it was always filled with darkness and Truth.

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