Lina Maria Giraldo's Blog

It’s raining. It hasn’t stopped for weeks. I’m in the middle of the valley. I haven’t eaten. My stomach talks to me as my conscience, it doesn’t allow me to sleep. I got some food last week trying to spread the word of God. I got some bread and cheese.

I’m lost, lost like the leaf that falls from the tree and doesn’t know where to go anymore. The grass moves constantly from left to right to right to left. The colors fly inside of my imagination. I’m tired and confused. I would like to understand why I’m sitting here alone. The smell of the horses drowns my brain on the manure. I’m in the stable and I’ve been living here for weeks. I try to convince the peasant to model for me, but they call me the crazy son of the pastor. They don’t believe in the word of God. I’m looking at me, my frustration my pain… my stomach keeps complaining. I’m so hungry. I still remembered the smell of the cheese and bread. I just need to close my eyes and eat it again.

I’m loosing my hope. I’m full of hunger and walking for miles and nobody trusts my word, the word of God. I need to paint but I only have myself.

Self-Portrait With a Straw Hat and Artist’s Smock, 1887. Oil on cardboard, 40.8 x 32.7 cm