Cristiana Cappelletti: Surviving Betrayal

I had been recovering from a Deep Cerebral Vein Thrombosis, on the day of my 6th month check-up appointment, the neurologist told me that my Brain MRI was clear and discharged me. On the same day, while I was waiting for my partner in the car, the windscreen steamed up and a drawing of an arrow going through a heart, the face of a man looking like him, and the face of a woman appeared on the glass. My partner had found himself a younger woman.

In the mornings, I took the motorbike and my camera and went out to take photographs. At times there was a sharp contrast between the beauty of the surroundings and what I was feeling; other times they were pretty much in unison.

Finding an isolated chair to visually express my loneliness, looking for the  handmade spirit houses or shrines made by the workers to shelter the spirits of the land, spotting the colourful washing lines in rural areas, riding on roads that took me to unexplored places: these were some of things that helped me survive the betrayal.

I came face to face with some uncomfortable truths about myself, life, and how life works. The mind lies, my mind surely did. I was never truly safe. Things constantly changed. Life’s duality, contradictions and complexities gave me comfort, somehow they made me feel less lonely, I was just a very small, insignificant even, example of what being alive really meant. I was indeed life’s product. One day I was walking, the next I wasn’t. One day I was loved, the next I wasn’t.

From a distance, I appreciated the view of a tropical beach only to get closer and see all the rubbish left on the shore by the tide every day. In the local market, my eyes were drawn to a big swastika. On closer inspection, I realised it was just a flag. In front of this odd combination of flags there was yet another caged bulbul, which would have liked the same freedom other birds enjoyed instead of being used in bird singing competitions. Randomness and luck seem to be playing a part in what all the things on this planet end up being, doing, used for, as well as the cultural ties and the governments’ politics that dictate our existence.

I tried to balance my dark thoughts with the beauty I still found around me: my cat sleeping on me, observing the sea life on the shore at low tide, the golden light illuminating the karst formations before sunset, finding objects that conveyed my emotions, writing in my diary, and taking a decent photograph despite the harsh light and the 40° heat.

I returned to rescue the cat from the photograph and nursed him back to health.

These photographs reflect some of my thoughts during that time.