Polen / Pollen

Polen
Las capas geométricas se ensamblan y crecen. La tripulación cambia, madura y se acomoda. Los vehículos, geométricos y efímeros, se preparan.
El viento, la temperatura y la humedad son evaluados. La nave nodriza se abre como una flor, exponiendo a los vehículos por completo.
Alineados y por miles se alistan esperando la corriente de aire que los llevará a colonizar nuevos reinos. Viene el viento. El polen flota.

Pollen
Growing geometric layers are assembled. The crew changes, matures and gets organized. The vehicles, geometric and ephemeral, get ready.
The wind, temperature and humidity are carefully evaluated. The mother ship opens wide as a flower, showing the whole vehicle unit.
Aligned in thousands, they get ready as they wait for the wind that will take them to colonize the world. The wind comes. The pollen floats.

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Text: Mina Fiction
Illustration: Viviana Hinojosa.

Ephemera Project

Bubble/ Burbuja

Bubble
At the last minute a DNA cloud hides inside a bubble, running away from time and corrosion. The hidden world cries inside in desperation.
Long sleep and metamorphosis, introspection and mutation, desperation and serenity. For centuries, everything happens inside this bubble.
One day, a jewel is needed, a piece of amber is found, a crack is made and an ancient world released. Tiny bang: a cloud swiftly expands.

Burbuja
En el último momento, una nube de ADN se esconde en una burbuja, huyendo del tiempo y la corrosión. El mundo oculto grita de desesperación.
Sueño eterno y metamorfosis, introspección y mutación, desesperación y serenidad. Durante siglos, todo sucede dentro de esta burbuja.
Un día, una joya es deseada, una pieza de ámbar encontrada, una grieta se abre y un mundo es liberado. Una pequeña explosión y la nube crece.

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Text by Mina Polen.
Illustration Viviana Hinojosa.

Ephemera Project

Inside Pages / Páginas adentro

Inside pages

One night, as he was flipping pages through the book, he noticed that there was a butterfly clumsily coming out from one of the pages.
On another night, he noticed that the pages had a strange texture and that he was having trouble feeling each and every page of that book.
His body changed and seemed to disappear every night as he was reading that book. He felt inside his body pages being flipped through.
On a new moon, he felt the pull of an abyss when the book was totally open; that night he could feel the pages of the book as their own.
Next morning, the book laid open on the floor as the wind moved its pages. In the inside pages someone had a brand new life.

Páginas adentro.

Una noche, mientras hojeaba el libro por centésima vez, notó que una mariposa se desprendía de una de sus páginas y volaba adormecida.
Otra noche, notó que las hojas del libro tenían una rara textura y que cada vez le costaba más trabajo sentir cada una de sus páginas.
Después, su cuerpo cambió y parecía desvanecerse cada noche mientras releía aquel libro. Incluso sintió en su interior un hojear de libros.
Una luna nueva, sintió la succión de un abismo cuando el libro estaba totalmente abierto; esa noche llegó a sentir sus hojas como propias.
A la mañana siguiente, el libro yacía abierto en el piso mientras el viento movía sus hojas. Páginas adentro alguien tenía una nueva vida.

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Text copyright Mina Polen
Illustration copyright Viviana Hinojosa
All rights reserved

Ephemera

Los soñadores de perfume / The Perfume Dreamers

The perfume Dreamers

Every morning they wake up with some broken aromas in their eyes. In every dream they try to figure out the perfume´s shape and source.
They exchange spices and scented pieces of cloth. With that information they draw the map that will take each one of them to their perfume.
Sometimes they wake up, sweating, trying to get hold of it, to name the place where it comes from. But rushing into waking life is useless.
You cannot control dreams. You just have to keep waiting and hoping. You have to be ready for the next piece of information. Night comes.
Piece by piece, aroma by aroma, it takes years, sometimes centuries to draw a map. It takes many dreams to find the source of one´s perfume.

Los soñadores de perfume

Cada mañana, despiertan con aromas rotos en los ojos. En cada sueño, intentan darle forma y origen al perfume que sueñan.
Intercambian especias y olorosos pedazos de tela. Con esa información, poco a poco, trazan el mapa que llevará a cada uno a su perfume.
A veces despiertan, sudando, intentando atraparlo, llamar el nombre del lugar de donde viene. Pero apresurarse a la vigilia es inútil.
No pueden controlar los sueños. Tienen que seguir esperando y prepararse para la siguiente entrega de información. La noche se acerca.
Pieza por pieza, aroma por aroma; toma años, incluso siglos dibujar el mapa. Toma muchos sueños encontrar el origen del perfume propio.

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Texto Mina Polen
Illustration Viviana Hinojosa

Ephemera

Days of the Week

This is a fragment of the House of Mirrors project in collaboration with James Knight.
This extraordinary piece of writing has three illustrations.

On Monday she saw a burning ship, a galleon like the ones you find in illustrated storybooks about pirates and dangerous adventures. Its sails were flames.

On Tuesday she found herself floundering in a sea of red wine. The shore was nowhere to be seen. She was tempted to dive under, mouth open, and inhale the ocean.

On Wednesday the ring finger on her left hand turned into a little scroll. Pulling it from the socket, she unfurled it and read a poem that made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe.

On Thursday her home became filled with an enormous cat. She lost herself in the musky heat of its fur.

On Friday she played poker with the devil. The stakes were low: her soul, his sense of humour. They soon became bored and abandoned the game.

On Saturday she looked into the mirror and saw a girl made of pine cones.

Sunday was a day of rest. She fell asleep over a book. The girl in the story swapped places with her, but no one noticed.

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Text, copyright James Knight. Images, copyright Viviana Hinojosa. All rights reserved.