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A review by hollykeegan
The Diary of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait by Carlos Fuentes, Frida Kahlo
4.25
“Everything experienced in the minutes of the non-clocks and the non-calendars and the empty non-glances, is him. You felt it, that’s why you let that ship take me away…”
“Who would say that stains live and help one to live? Ink, blood, odor. I don’t know what ink he would use so eager to leave his mark in such a way”
“We were born for the same thing. To discover and love what has been discovered. Hidden. With the grief of always losing it.”
“I am him from the most primitive… and the most ancient cells, that with time became him”
“I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.”
“Who would say that stains live and help one to live? Ink, blood, odor. I don’t know what ink he would use so eager to leave his mark in such a way”
“We were born for the same thing. To discover and love what has been discovered. Hidden. With the grief of always losing it.”
“I am him from the most primitive… and the most ancient cells, that with time became him”
“I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.”