Architecture of Intimacy

By Isabel Rosas

Architecturecannot be understood without intimacy. My mind and my spirit are intertwined with the whole of my body. Each part of my body is a symphonic orchestra of me and my place, to which I belong; the one I inevitably inhabit. My thoughts are my intimacy and intimacy navigates through the entire atmosphere in which it exists. My breathing quickens with the breaths of air that enrich my spirit when I sleep, when I eat or when I simply read the book in the modesty of the window as witness the light of the silent lamp.

My emotions listen to the intimacy of my absolute being, my desires, my dreams, they awaken me to reality to make them live with every moment that moves me or drives me crazy, but never those that torment me. Right there, intimacy is lost and my Self, my Body and my Soul are left naked in a place empty of me. A cold and distant place, nauseatingly desolate and full of a sick sadness. Which one? The one that does not define me, the one that denies me, the one that determines me, the one that limits me to the shame of NO intimacy. That place that pretends that we are all the same, repeated a thousand times.

Because intimacy is not only the absence of others outside of me, but it is everything that comes close to me to know who I am, the presence of my self in its most authentic state. Because my house is the extension of my body, and of my most personal identity. What would my house be without me even if I inhabited it with my body, my soul and my spirit? Little by little they would die until they left me empty. Each piece of furniture, each wall, each ceiling and each floor are only objects arranged for something. In principle, I do not want them to fill the space but to give meaning to the place. I need the intimacy that shelters me, that elevates me like the flight of birds or that sings to me like swallows in the ear of my fantasies and my desires. Come to my intimacy and inhabit me completely, let your voice resonate throughout the space of my existence: my home.