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Amputated Hand trapped for 20 days in bathroom

The forgotten Hand”. Copyright Alice odilon 2010.

“A indeterminate old hand suffering from a mysterious “vasospastic disorder” causing discoloration of the fingers, has survived being trapped in her bathroom in a building in ‘Disruptcity’, in Soreshire for 20 days after the door lock jammed.”

That was the headline on “Disruptcity Gazette”, everybody could find out the 4th of December 2010.

- “See what happened in our building!”, exclaimed the numbed Ragdoll cat to his partner, the wolf masked doll.

- “Gosh! I cannot believe it!

Please read me this right now!

- “An amputated flayed hand has survived being trapped in her bathroom for 20 Days.

The room had no window or phone, so the cold hand was unable to tell anyone but she tapped on pipes during the night, hoping to alert her neighbours.

The Hand-doll trapped in the bathroom”. Copyright Alice odilon 2010.

They thought the noise was  usual ghostly souls dancing around and didn’t noticed it as something unusual.

But one of the occupant Akan.K.  realised they had not seen the pensioner recently and called the authorities, who sent in a rescue crew.

Firefighters broke into 7 th-floor flat in Disrupcity and reportedly found her lying on the ground in the bathroom, in a “very weakened” state.

The amputated hand, who has not been named, had survived on warm tap water for almost three weeks.

She is now recovering in hospital.”

“You could hear banging sounds, like a hammer, even at night,” one neighbour told local media.

“But we thought they were our friends the disembodied missing souls playing around.

We said: ‘They’re having a good time.”

Quite nosy but it’s understandable, they need to stretch their ghostly legs!…. If we had known!”

- And we were sleeping thoroughly ignoring all about this tragedy!

- We must visit this heroic survivor in Hospital!

- Please my Love, take your bag and go with me! told the suddenly enthusiastic Ragdoll to his beloved masked doll.

In two minutes the couple was standing on the pavement at the bus stopping. There, Akan, Blythe Somat, Betsy Mac Call were still waiting.

- I suppose we go to the same destination? asked very excited Betsy.

- Sure! replied everybody. It’s our duty to support Miss Syndra Raynaud. (it was the name of the poor rescued hand).

Several minutes later, our team was facing frail  S. Raynaud in her cold bed in Hospital.

She was very bad, on a pic of a spasms attack:

The team saw and felt the sudden changes in Miss Raynaud’s fingers, triggered by a mysterious stress and deep anxiety.

The skin blanched, turned white, then blue. Fingers and toes tingled and  Miss Raynaud told they’ve began numb, and felt nothing anymore.

Then Akan came near the diseased hand and try to rewarmed her.

The skin flushes pink or red, and then Syndra claimed she got throbbing and soreness in her fingers as the blood surged back into the tiny blood vessels.

Miss Raynaud was swelling visibly and seemed in morbid fire inside.

Please help me to refresh me!

I’ve to tell you, I am the hand of a thief doll who was caught by the police two years ago in Iran.

“The Punishment”. Copyright Alice Odilon 2010

As you know the punishment in this obscure Muslim land, is to practice extreme punishments, such as chopping off the hands of thieves.

That what happened to my owner, a kleptomaniac young doll, lost and confused in a faked tempted world.

I know she survived of this “divinely endorsed “mutilation, but she run away and disappeared.

But I’m still with her, you know, I’m a sort of metonymic trope, a relic and substitute as well.

That’s why I take some andromorphic dolly attitudes with my fingers; one becoming the back bone and the head, the other 4, becoming my limbs, you know????

I have to represent her, in a memory of her.

- I see, said Akan, we have to help you to find this missing doll.

It’s vital for both of you.

that’s the only way to recover for you.

You’ll find peace and relieve when you’ll be reunited.

Please stay calm and avoid any stress.

I know it’s quite impossible because it depends on the life of missing doll, but please be confident, we’re with you and we are going to help you when you come back to the Tower.

All the team was reinforced by the arrival of a new (mutilated) member, which was weak at this stage, but very responsive to what happened here and out there in the dark, where runaway thief doll was in danger.

Alice Odilon. Copyright Novembre 2010


The arm-hold trap

La nuit tombe bleue marine sur la ville où s’endorment Akan et la jeune fille, loin l’une de l’autre, dans un quartier opposé de la cité.

Elles ne se parlent plus maintenant.

Akan dans son lit repense à la demoiselle aux hirondelles.

Elle a peur pour elle.

C’est dans la peau de la jeune fille désormais, la peau neuve a été tatouée.

Le dessin splendide doit lui faire mal à cette heure ci.

Non parce qu’il s’agit d’une plaie, mais parce qu’il s’agit d’un terrible acte manqué à l’envers.

Il n’est cependant plus question de rature, hachure à l’encre noire.

“Le bras aux hirondelles”. copyright Alice ODILON 2010.

Pour la gamine, ce tatouage indélébile conclue son amour incontrôlé pour sa mère; pour celle-ci il s’agit d’une fantaisie, d’un message impubère.

Mais alors que c’est-il donc passé?

Quel est ce quiproco dans la peau, si douloureux et virtueusement regardable?

- J’ai voulu faire entrer les hirondelles dans mon ciel, et Akan avec, raconte la jeune fille dans son sommeil profond.

Je désirais les garder en moi, de crainte qu’elles ne s’envolent.

C’était la seule chose à laquelle je pouvais vraiment m’accrocher.

Cette pensée pour ma Mère.

Et je sentais Akan partir, vers la fin de sa vie et je l’ai retenue.

Ecrire ma mère dans ma peau représentait le pacte le plus réel de mon destin.

Sacraliser Akan c’était aussi la faire mienne pour que je puisse vivre enfin.

Toutes ces écritures à l’extérieur de moi, m’ont paniquée et se devaient d’être captées dans mon derme.

Je demande l’absolution afin que je puisse regarder l’intérieur de mon bras, sans la hantise du membre étranger.

Que ce cauchemar cesse à jamais, que ma mère ne craigne plus d’être dans ma peau.

Oh! Maman que m’as-tu fait en partant de ma vie?????

J’ai tellement eu peur pour toi, toujours.

Maman reviens moi, reste en moi, que je puisse vivre sans ta présence!

- Dans la nuit bleue marine, Akan ne peut plus dormir.

Ses longues jambes fuselées remuent lentement sous le drap.

A l’intérieur de ses bras maigres, s’endort une petite fille au bras hachuré d’oiseaux.

Son corps anorexique lui parle de la jeune femme aux hirondelles.



Alice ODILON. Copyright Alice ODILON 2010.

Navy Blue Night falls on the exile city where sleep Akan and the girl far away from each other in an opposite area of the city.

They do not talk anymore.

Akan in her bed, thinks about the swallow tattoo girl.

She is worried about her.

It’s in the skin of the girl right now. The new skin has been tattooed.

The virtuous design is certainly hurting her arm at this time.

Not because it is a wound, but because it is a terrible Lacanian backwards slip.

However, there is no question anymore of erasing, neither black ink hatching on the flesh.

For the girl, this uncontrolled indelible tattoo concludes her love for her mother.

For the the last one it is a fantasy, a message coming from someone below the age of puberty.


So what happened then?

What is this quiproco in the skin, so painful and virtuous watchable ?

- I wanted to show the swallows and  Akan in my sky, says the young girl in her deep sleep.

I wanted to keep them in me, I was so scared they flied away.

It was the only thing I could really hang on.

This memory of my Mother.

And I felt Akan leaving, towards the end of her life and I retained her.

Writing my mother in my skin was the most real covenant of my destiny.

Making Akan sakred, was although making her, mine, in order I could live finally.

I panicked, all these entries outside of me, had to be trapped in my skin.

I’m asking for absolution so that I can watch inside of my arm without the phantom pain specter of a missing limb.

Let this nightmare stops forever, let my mother no longer fears being in my skin.

Oh Mom! what have you done to my life ?????

I’m so afraid for you, always.

Mom be back to me, remains in me, then I can live without you!

- In the navy blue night, Akan can not sleep.

Her long slender legs slowly stir in the sheet.

Within her thin arms, a little girl with hatched birds on her limb, falls asleep.

Disembodied Akan dreams about the limbless baby.



Alice ODILON. Copyright 2010.




The ghostly energy of anorexia

In the crowd there are anorexic people moving differently.

Their dark energy behaves like a form of negative energy, gravitational repulsion.

“Gravitational repulsive Energy”. Copyright Alice ODILON 2009. All rights reserved.

The nature of this force remains a mystery.

The pure essence of this dark energy creates energy phantom as the energy of an amputated limb.

This form of energy is sometimes also called “zero point energy”.

Sometimes these anorexic persons are so agitated, “elusive”, they seem untouchable like virtual photon particles.

The vacuum anorexic energy is the amount of produced  and saved energy to achieve the zero point and draw the body space time.


Alice ODILON December 2009.


Anorexia: The Rest of my Body

There has been a shambles, a shipwreck in my family.

I’m the little survivor, an unexpected seed which grew up badly.

Some people say: “After me, the deluge!”

As an anorexic girl I would rather say: “After the shambles you made, it will be impossible for me to live, but I need to try”.

All my strength was used to stand the strain of the lacking love from the Only One I expected it from : my Mother.

If I were to compare myself to a living thing, I would be a poor plain-looking plant in a dark path, or a missing-limb sea star in a tidal pool.


 

“Amputee du Coeur”. Copyright Alice ODILON 2009. No clone is free.

I’m a survivor.

I’m an X.

Only the living rough X knows the way to exist in front of my Mother or other predators.

To abridge this complicated growing phenomenon, I drastically cut my body by removing my trunk and my head.


 

“Rupture de Coeur”. Copyright Alice ODILON 2009. No clone is free.

I just kept in my mind the trace of an empty cage sheltering non-existent innards and guts, a long time ago.

Then I kept my eyes, my mouth, my sex, but I lost my face.

Finally I matched my right arm to my left leg and the same on the opposite side and I got a cross.

 


 

A “body cross” with eyes and mouth on my oral face (stomach face – lower face), sex everywhere on my arms and legs, and anus on my aboral face

(front – upper face) in the center of my pentagon body.

Finally an erotic holy body X, because if we consider the point of view of God, nothing else would be noticed on the Judgment Day,

as guts that usually support all the pains of life, are not taken into consideration and have always been considered as rubbish.


 

“Oculaire Cardiaque”. Copyright Alice ODILON 2009. No clone is free.

There I am: a living broomstick cross.

And if you have a better look at my limbs, they’re actually quite smooth and soft.


 

Photo retouchee de منتديات ستار تايمز

 

Sometimes my limbs swell up like they invite the others to touch them, as they’re so smooth.

Alice ODILON. 26 Septembre 2009.

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