Pauli and Caro

“And in the middle of that buzzing chaos, an absolute silence fell when I saw her — alone in a corridor, tied to her wheelchair, and the wheelchair to a handrail, because sometimes she forcefully tries to escape. I approached her, and at that moment everything stopped. The world between her and me became the whole world. The deranged machine, the life I had always lived, felt like a piece of worn-out gum — artificial, tasteless. I was never able to walk away again. She was Pauli.” Paula was abandoned at birth in a public hospital on December 24, 1982. Her days unfold within an institution, between the monotony of that corridor and the afternoon sun. For nineteen years, no one visited her or showed any interest in her. Until her hand caught Carolina’s body and held it still for a few seconds. Something shifted inside her. For the first time in a long while, Caro chose not to be in control and allowed things to happen. They found their own way of relating. They build a language made of movement and contact, like a dance that draws them into an infinite spiral.