Carrousel

She stood still so… why was everything around her moving?
Like an invisible “Carousel” that only she knew how to guide, and in that frozen moment, she was the axis and the vertigo: a sweet one that drove us to lose ourselves, like when a carousel reaches a certain speed and you no longer know if you're rising or falling.
There was something else… carousels are beautiful, slow... hypnotic, a dance that repeats itself while everything else becomes blurred.
Could it be that each turn is a version of oneself that was, but persists?
However, I believe there is something almost sacred about the movement… as it spins, it doesn’t fall… it remains alive.
As if, in the pause of that motion, she was her own source; her center but also her drift... effortlessly drawing us in and making us lose ourselves in her whirlpool of calmness, where the world curves to her rhythm until movement becomes softness... and that vertigo wraps around us.