Quiero ver cómo la gente sin cuerpos hace el amor

The women in these three works loved all men. Now they lock themselves in a garden, a house, perhaps an island, a computer, sometimes a museum, where it always snows or rains, a very dense snow that makes the space an unreal place. They speak shamelessly about the male sex, about madness and madness, to celebrate pleasure and the body. All of them believe they desire man, but they do it through the universe of the machine, finding out the intimacy in the interactions between bodies, human and non-human. These overwhelming correspondences, which may go nowhere but inside the gut, will end up being an intimate exploration of pleasure and self-pleasure. It is not them they are looking for. It is the desire.