"abre tus manos dejame entrar mas alla de esa mascara y conocerte No tengas miedo"

Una mujer se oculta tras la máscara, hermética, herida, con la llave de su clausura colgando cerca y la daga sobre la mesa como testigo de su desesperación. Ha cerrado sus emociones, ha sellado su vida.

Frente a ella, la abubilla: ave solitaria y sabia, territorial, migratoria, pero empática. De su canto brota una flor —gesto de amor, de vida, de esperanza— mientras en su mano guarda el guijarro blanco y las cintas rojas, símbolos de protección contra la sombra y la envidia.

El ave se acerca y le ofrece la flor. Ella la recibe con temor, la huele, la reconoce, y sin embargo, la devuelve.

Ese instante suspendido encierra la paradoja humana: aunque todo parezca perdido, la vida insiste en ofrecernos un signo, un respiro, una señal de cambio. Pero la decisión última —abrirse o clausurarse de nuevo— siempre queda en nuestras manos.

Esta pieza es una Colaboración con Xelda Jara @xeldajara

IN THEIR HANDS

"Open your hands let me in beyond that mask and get to know you Don't be afraid"

A woman hides behind the mask,
sealed off, wounded, with the key to her closure hanging near
and the dagger on the table as witness to her despair.
She has shut down her emotions, has sealed her life.
Before her, the hoopoe:
a solitary and wise bird,
territorial, migratory, but empathetic.
From its song blooms a flower — a gesture of love, life, and hope —
while in its hand it holds the white pebble and red ribbons,
symbols of protection against shadow and envy.
The bird approaches and offers her the flower.
She receives it with fear,
smells it, recognizes it,
and yet, she returns it.
That suspended moment holds the human paradox:
even when everything seems lost,
life insists on offering us a sign,
a breath, a signal of change.
But the final decision — to open up or to close again —
always remains in our hands.

This artwork was made in Collaboration with Xelda Jara @xeldajara