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You will fly but first you will struggle for life

“Penguins in the Blizzard”. Google Images.

“Every Day, alone in front of the other pensioners of Anorexia rescue center, deep in the most pitiless group of anorexic persons, a truly remarkable journey will take place.”

- That would be the Treatment to recover in Akan’s Tower, announced Syndra Raynaud, the “Right Hand Woman” of Akan.

- “Because for you, guys, anorexic winners, life is like that, harsh and inhospitable”, added inconspicuously, the shy Ragdoll.

Each of you will be a survivor, and will have to deal with eating-disorder, staying alive.

Every pensioner in rescue center, will abandon the deep sweet security of its bedroom and clamber onto the commune area to begin its long struggle against anorexia: a such desolate land, a region so bleak, so extreme, it support no other life.

- “The greatest fear you have, the fear to live, the fear to loose control, the fear to eat, the fear to breathe, you will beat it”.

Said Blythe Somat, the hemiplegic flower doll, who was in charge of anorexic patients suffering from Asperger Syndrom as well.

- “So you will play a game, all together”.

- The game inspired by “The Emperor’s Journey”.

 

1972: Survivors found 10 weeks after plane crash in the Argentine Andes. Google Images.

(Four days after the rescue, a Santiago paper alleged that the survivors became cannibals to ward off starvation.
The group confirmed that they ate human flesh at a press conference two days later.)

 

You will have to accomplish tests of extreme endurance, during which you will have to rely on the united anorexic members of the group, their physical warmth, their spiritual presence, their embodied soul, their disembodied body.

You will share body heat to conserve energy and protect the “protégé” you will have to care about constantly.

You will realize you cannot hate the other anorexic persons, as you did before; because you were scared about their special regard and knowledge of anorexia secrets.

Only Love and solidarity will help to struggle for life.

 

“Child survivors dressed in clothes made from German uniforms”
(One of the youngest survivors of the Buchenwald concentration camp, shown in the center of the photograph above, was four-year-old Josef Schleifstein.The Communist prisoners, who were in charge of the day-to-day administration of the camp, made sure that the children were well cared for. Note the adult man in the back row wearing a beret to identify himself as a Communist.)

You won’t have food during the periods of survival in the course of which you will have to completely deny yourself and to think only of your “protégé”: the small infant who will be entrusted to each of you, from today, from now.

This Baby is you when you where a newborn, just before anorexia,  before lack of love and good care of your mother.

So you will be in charge of yourself, as a baby and in the same time, as an adult.

It will lead to you to a point of survival self-experiment.

At this point you will have to choose to live or to die.

Alice Odilon. 17/07/2011

 ”The Penguins chicks survivors in the Blizzard”/ Ref: “The Emperor’s Journey”.

One of the most searing Portraits of doll’s desperation ever put in Akan’s story.

It’s time to tell about essential, minimal, brutal things in Life. Isn’t it?

Akan had tried terribly hard to postpone this moment when a dark whispering murmur of the wind would came.

But it happened despite that.
This wind was the announcement of death.
Somebody in the tower was going to leave tragically.
This doll didn’t deserve to die alone nor endure this hard life.
This black day was actually a relief for this tenant, a squatter in fact.

She had been hiding in a basement for a few days after having run away from Bresson-City.

Her name was Doll “Mouchette”.


She came from the county of Bernanoshire, where she had lived in hardship in Bresson-city.
There she had faced major difficulties: a dying mother, an alcoholic father who was absent, and a baby brother in need of care.


She had been subjected to derision from her teachers.

“Nothing but a little savage” was how the Bresson-city school-teacher had described fourteen-year-old Mouchette, and that view had been echoed by every right-thinking local citizen.
Mouchette had been alone, completely alone, against everyone.”



Her mother was too sick to get out of bed,  Mouchette had been forced to take on the motherly tasks, preparing everyone’s meals and feeding her younger sibling.

At one point, it even looked like she might try breastfeeding when there was no fire on the stove to heat the baby’s milk.



She had been forced to be an adult even before her body was capable.
Also one dark night she had been raped by a bad man in a wood.


As tragedies continued to pile up, she had decided to leave Bresson-city and to take her life into her own hands, like a last act of defiance.
Mouchette doll was the most beautiful of dolls despite her tangled black hair, her dirty nails, and her wooden clogs.
Akan didn’t know Mouchette, until she had gone to bathe in the river with her friend Betsy, anorexic paper-doll and the severed hand of the doll who had disappeared.
It was the spring of 2011 in April.
It was still very chilly and the wind was twisting and twirling the petals of the young trees in bloom.
This supremely delicate dance had attracted a sad person.


“Mouchette finds rescue and peace in the nature”.

A young doll soiled by the earth and misery, with black hair matted and covered with dust, was sitting, stretched out on the ground, on the green bank: Mouchette.

Betsy who was unable to swim, given that her paper body would disintegrate, was also seated on the other side of the river, looking after the towels of her friends, Akan and Syndra Raynaud.

Akan and Syndra were playing in the cool water splashing each other and diving into the depths.
Their bodies glided in the light, with the thinness of Akan’s body magnificent in the light of the ripples, her skin both pale and livid embellishing the river.
Syndra, the severed hand of the doll who had disappeared, with her long fingers, mimicked the touching grace of a starfish.
Syndra became a mischievous mermaid jumping in the silvery waters; her fingers did not feel the slightest cold or the slightest increase in temperature: a kind of provisional harmony!


Suddenly a cry, Betsy, panicked, helpless, witness of the worst, the death of Mouchette.


Mouchette had let herself roll from the top of the bank like a lifeless puppet carried away by her own momentum down the slope.

{Of course, she does it alone, so maybe Bresson isn’t letting us off the hook after all.

Maybe putting up with a hard life leads us to even harder, more isolated positions.

In the prologue, Mouchette’s mother refers to a stone that is inside her, a metaphor for her illness.

But then, it could be where we all end up, weighted down, and the more we struggle, like a bird ensnared in a poacher’s trap, the more it hurts.

Bresson only releases Mouchette by letting that full weight land on her, and thus pushing her under.}

Mouchette let herself slide into the cold water, drown in icy water, on this beautiful sunny morning in mid-April.

Akan and Syndra had seen nothing, but felt the tumult of the circles in the water left by the despairing leap of the Doll Mouchette.


Betsy stiff with pain, dried out with sadness, stiffened even more before the now empty water.

It was April 14, 2011, Doll Mouchette would leave an enormous hole in the lives of Akan and her friends.

Bresson, director of the masterpiece, says:

“Mouchette offers evidence of misery and cruelty.

She is found everywhere: wars, concentration camps, tortures, assassinations.”



For Mouchette. Alice Odilon December 2010.

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


Hemiplegic flower-doll revealed her terrible secret

I don’t know when Akan realized that in her building a paper doll (Betsy Mac Call) lived on the 16th floor and an hemiplegic flower-doll on the second floor.

In fact she met the first in the lift sometimes. But she never saw the other in the elevator, as she probably didn’t like to use it for only 2 floors.

Akan noticed that Miss Flower Doll (her real name was Blythe Somat) seemed to suffer from severe somatic disorders because {she dragged her left leg and her hand was folded back over her forearm}.

Additionally she had a frail body condition and a extremely pale complexion.

But what’s the most mysterious was that this young girl didn’t have a face, her white hair hidden this lack of identity.

And most curious: she didn’t seem to need eyes, mouth and nose.

The question began to be:”How can she see, eat, drink, listen, speak, cry, scream???????”

There was no need for that apparently.


“Betsy Mac Call plays with Blythe Somat in the cemetery”. Copyright Alice Odilon 2010 .

The Flower-Doll was invented By French Psychanalyst Françoise DOLTO in 1950.

No need anymore for speaking, smiling, singing, tasting bread and butter, enjoying coffee, orange juice.

She never had the power of speech.

Undoubtedly she saw and felt with other senses that Akan had never considered in her entire life.

On the other hand, Miss Somat seemed to be aware of everything going on around her and nothing escaped her attention.

It was due to the high level perception of her rod-body.

We can say Miss Flower-doll had no need of a back and front, because they were the same from both sides.

Some weird magnetic thing made her extremely attractive.

Akan was obliged to admit she wanted to know more about Blythe Somat, even if she had to be intrusive.

This particular feeling made Akan guilty and ashamed, but she didn’t want to control this offensive curiosity.

So on the 15th of November 2010, on an awful rainy day, Akan rang at Blythe Somat’s door, in order to invite her for tea.

BS opened the door immediately.

Akan was quite surprised when she saw the blood covering Blythe Somat.

She was still standing but close to a sudden collapse.

- Oh my God! what happened to you, Blythe? asked Akan crying and shaking her hands.

- Miss Somat moved her disabled forearm with the dead hand and tried to say, it was the result of her condition.

She was  just  subject to “somatosensory amplification”: a tendency to perceive normal somatic and visceral sensation as being overly intense in a negative way.

Blythe asked for a pen and a piece of paper to reveal some terrible fact:

- You know, I’m a Flower-doll, a hard-worker:

– I spend all my positive energy in surviving during hours every day, being beaten and abused, and hurt by victim children needing to vent their anger on some generous professional scapegoat.

That’s my job! That’s  the way I pay my rent and holidays.

I’m no good for anything else, you know.

Unable to speak, Akan thought: What a shocking truth she had been reading.

And Flower-Doll wrote some words again: Because I’m such a nice girl, I am a “naughty thing” for abused or narcissistic children in need to evacuate anger and fear.

Do you understand I cure traumatized victims?

I’m quite happy with that. It makes me an essential very important toy-tool.

- Yes, I understand, you are a body of sacrifice.

And then Akan wanted to call 999 when Betsy Mac Call arrived passing the door, claiming the elevator was out of order and what a pain it was to walk 16 floors.

…..to be followed……

Alice Odilon. Novembre 2010.


Pretty Picture found on Forum Pakistan

If Akan becomes “object a”, she will die

Akan a buté sur une citation de Jacques Lacan, issue du Séminaire X: “L’amour consiste à offrir quelque chose qu’on n’a pas à quelqu’un qui n’en veut pas.”

Maintenant elle s’interroge : “ai-je connu cette échange unique avec quelqu’un?”

Oui, elle l’a connu quelques secondes, dans un village de France, perdu dans le sud.

Elle venait de quitter en pleurs son analyste,  elle était désespérée, le néant l’avalait, elle ne comprenait plus sa vie.

Lui, il l’a rattrapée en bas dans la rue, en prétextant aller chercher des cigarettes au tabac, il l’a regardée quelques secondes pour l’atteindre, et elle a sentie si fort ce regard d’amour.

Elle l’a refusé sans savoir, par instinct auto-destructeur, elle s’est refermée sur elle, sur rien.

Elle savait qu’il ne pouvait pas lui donner ce qu’il donnait déjà à quelqu’un d’autre, elle le savait, elle ne pouvait que refuser de connaître cette couleur amère amoureux.

Il eût été question de passion en place de l’amour.

Et cela lui semblait trop enivrant.

(Sur cette photo c’est autre chose: Akan les a photographiés à Lisbonne/airport, lui il ne l’aimait plus, et elle demandait son amour.

Elle lui donnait tout sauf ce qu’il attendait, et lui ne voulait pas de cette demande là.)

Alors la maigre Akan se penche sur son enfance et cherche des traces d’ amour.


Akan a été la fille de Andrée , la mère affamante.

{Quand l’Autre rabat l’amour au niveau du besoin, dit Lacan, il est étouffant.}

{Quand l’Autre « confond ses soins avec le don de son amour », quand l’Autre, à la place de donner ce qu’il n’a pas – ce qui est la définition de l’amour –} ne donne que la nourriture inerte.

Quand l’Autre, donc, à la place de donner ce qu’il n’a pas «  gave Akan de la bouillie étouffante », alors Akan a refusé de satisfaire à la demande de Andrée : « Akan gavée de bouillie-leurre d’amour,  a refusé la nourriture et a joué de son refus comme d’un désir de rien, d’un rien fécond, avec une charge potentielle positive.

Elle arrache son propre coeur de son corps, pour mieux voir et vivre.

“Oculaire Cardiaque”. Copyright Alice Odilon 2009.


Akan utilise son anorexie comme son signe identificatoire,  vouant un culte au rien sacré.

Akan ne se représente pas, elle ne vit pas dans son corps, simplement dans ses yeux.

S’il fallait qu’un miroir la réfléchisse il montrerait une forme filiforme placardée d’un manteau plat sans profondeur ni intérieur.

L’image d’Akan dans le miroir est une housse en plastique,  pas grand chose d’elle-même puisque tous les vêtements vitaux sont enfermés et rendus  invisibles par le contenant à fermeture éclair.

Akan sert de  porte-manteau en os, la seule structure capable de tenir tête au mauvais oeil de la mère méduse.

L’habit ne fait pas Akan.


“Anorexie”. {“Abercombrie and Fitch” picture.}


Le manteau  spéculaire  cache le ceintre maigre et habille la douleur.

Mais Akan se cache dans bien moins encore.

Akan se cache dans son  regard, elle  incarne l’objet regard.

La césure corporelle s’effectue par les yeux.

Le regard est le lieu où Akan “tient son moi et même son corps”. { Françoise Dolto : l’enfant du miroir}.

Çà vit uniquement dans son regard.

Les yeux sont le sanctuaire de vie de Akan. Ils ne se représentent pas, ils voient.

Akan est l’objet regard dont la présence meurtrie.

Son regard tue.

Alice Odilon. 21 septembre 2010.

Akan stumbled over a quotation of Jacques Lacan, in  Seminary X: “ Love consists in giving something that other one doesn’t have to somebody else who does not want it ”.

Now she asks herself: “ did I knew this sort of unique exchange with anybody ?”

Yes, she knew it, once a time,  for some seconds, in a village of France, lost in the south.

She had there just left  her analyst, she was despaired, she didn’t understood her life anymore.

The analyst  caught her in the street below, by using as an excuse going  to buy cigarettes in tobacco, he looked at her to attain her, and she felt so very much this look of love.

She refused it without knowing how to accept what she wanted so much, by auto-destructive instinct, she closed again on her, on nothing.

She knew that he could not give her what he has already given to somebody else, she knew it, she could only refuse to know this pain of loving failure.

It would have been question of live passion instead of love.

And it seemed forbidden for them.

Then thin Akan remembers her childhood and searches traces of  love.

Akan was the daughter of Andrée, the “starvation” mother.

{When Other one pulls down love at the level of the need, says Lacan, he is oppressive}.

{When Other one « merges its care with the donation of its love », when Other one, gives dead food instead to give what he does not have – what is the definition of love– he is an abuser}.

When Other one, therefore, to give what it does not have « force-feeds Akan with the oppressive gruel », then Akan refuses to meet at the request of Andrée: « Akan force-fed with gruel – decoy of love- , refuses the food and plays her refusal as a wish of nothing, a fecund nothing, with a positive potential load.

She tears off her own heart of her body, to see better and live.


“Le temps du coeur”.Copyright Alice Odilon 2009.


Akan has in fact no identity,  only the one to be anorexic, toxicomane of the nothing.

Akan cannot be represented by herself, she doesn’t see her real self, because it’s not shown in the mirror.

If it was possible that a mirror reflects it,  it would show a spindly form posted by a superficial flat topcoat nor an inside.

Akan appears as a ghost in the mirror, she is completely picked up by this specular picture, that means her emptiness, as her weak vital inside stays invisible in the mirror.

Akan is the coat rack in bones, the only structure able of standing up to the bad eye of the killer mother.

The specular coat does not make Akan.

It  hides the thin Akan and dresses pain.

The bodily caesura is made by eyes.

“Le Marquis”. Self-portrait Alice Odilon 1984. All rights reserved.


Look is the place where Akan ” holds her self  and even her body “. {Françoise Dolto: the child of the mirror}.

Life stays only in her look.

Eyes are the shrine of life of Akan.

They’re not visible, but they see.

Akan is the object “look” of which  presence hurts.

Her eyes kill.

Alice Odilon.

September 21st, 2010.



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