"In front of the mirror, on a day full of enthusiasm, you put your mask on too heavily; it bites your skin. After the party, you lift up a corner to see … a failed decal. With horror you see that the flesh and its mask have become inseparable. Quickly, with a little saliva, you regulate the bandage on the wound.
I remember, it was Carnival time. I had spent many solitary hours disguising my soul. Its masks were so perfect that when they happened to run into each other on the plaza of my consciousness, they didn’t recognize one another. But the facepaints that I’d used seemed indelible. To clean them off, I rubbed so hard that I took off the skin. And my soul, like a face galled to the quick, no longer resembled human form."
- Claude Cahun
I remember, it was Carnival time. I had spent many solitary hours disguising my soul. Its masks were so perfect that when they happened to run into each other on the plaza of my consciousness, they didn’t recognize one another. But the facepaints that I’d used seemed indelible. To clean them off, I rubbed so hard that I took off the skin. And my soul, like a face galled to the quick, no longer resembled human form."
- Claude Cahun