When everything is dead, I get my leitmotiv lifebuoy: reduce my weight, lose my body, lose this embarrassment of the body.

Nothing matters, the ugly truth no longer concerns me, I tip my silence and I want to reduce the width of my thighs, as they are monstrously present and parts of me, – This “fake me” I don’t connect.-

This essence of consciousness, the body wants to divorce, forget, transform in a starfish, a swallow, at worst a line, a stroke with an arrow, but certainly not thick, not heavy, not dark, not like my dead body.

I am “anorexia”.

Because I can not access the calmness of being me.

“I dressed up as anorexia.”

Something extremely insolently happy , conscious of the death around, everywhere, something free, flighty and without parents, name, mapped out life,common habits, increasing odd habits, irreparable age.

Anorexia represents me, figures me, keeps me safe for a while.

My colourless reality without mercy, is tame by my anorexia.

No happiness on earth? – then Imperious anorexia.

No professional success? – then inflexible anorexia.

No return for my work as author? – then intensive anorexia.

Not a smile from this person crossed in the street? – then anorexia.

No yes from my mother? -  then anorexia.

No money? – then anorexia.

No holidays? – then anorexia,

No house? – then anorexia.

No Paris? – then anorexia.

No south of France? – then anorexia.

“Beauty of anorexia”. Copyright Alice ODILON 2009

Anorexia everywhere, always, unrestrained, reckless, uncontrollable, overwhelming my life.

The 25th of March 2010. Alice ODILON.