Everything my mother was for me… and what I wanted to be for my daughter

She wears makeup while driving, always. Or in the cafe, or in the street. To go to the market, she puts on long dresses and sunglasses, gladioli in her big basket. Looks like an actress. I looked at her, I looked at her so much. And I liked what I saw so much. My mother's body.

This generation that drove without a seatbelt, smoked fags in the car, went swimming and sunbathing topless. These bodies drunk on the sun and speed, exposed to view and the elements. Who have gone through life with their feet firmly on the floor, without fear and without reproach, without fear of the slightest judgement.

She wears makeup while driving, always. Or in the cafe, or in the street. To go to the market, she puts on long dresses and sunglasses, gladioli in her big basket. Looks like an actress. I looked at her, I looked at her so much. And I liked what I saw so much. My mother's body.

This generation that drove without a seatbelt, smoked fags in the car, went swimming and sunbathing topless. These bodies drunk on the sun and speed, exposed to view and the elements. Who have gone through life with their feet firmly on the floor, without fear and without reproach, without fear of the slightest judgement.

The body as a vessel, traversed by sensations. The step more flexible, the head higher.

This is what my mother showed me. This is what I want for my daughter.

Let her too leap forward, move forward, let her body inhabit all possible space. Let it skip a generation, if necessary.

The body as a vessel, traversed by sensations. The step more flexible, the head higher.

This is what my mother showed me. This is what I want for my daughter.

Let her too leap forward, move forward, let her body inhabit all possible space. Let it skip a generation, if necessary.

She is playing in the sand. The sweet skin in the shade of the parasol. Indifference to looks. The abandonment in his still chubby legs and arms. Yes, that freedom, that one precisely. This hyphen between my daughter and my mother. This joyful and solar hedonism. To which I gave a name so as never to mislead it: Birdie. My declaration of love and gratitude to them both. My way of honoring their playful and greedy spirit. Birdie for all the petrolheads who will also feel the wind, the speed and the sun.

She is playing in the sand. The sweet skin in the shade of the parasol. Indifference to looks. The abandonment in his still chubby legs and arms. Yes, that freedom, that one precisely. This hyphen between my daughter and my mother. This joyful and solar hedonism. To which I gave a name so as never to mislead it: Birdie. My declaration of love and gratitude to them both. My way of honoring their playful and greedy spirit. Birdie for all the petrolheads who will also feel the wind, the speed and the sun.