In these strange poems of havoc a difficult voice sings. Nana del maldolor y la tristeza - which, one might say, in their own way they seek to conjure - Carla Chinski's verses link the ambiguity of a body made a garden for death, a physical body to the point of affliction, excessively open to the forces that they transform and destroy. These poems speak, then, a wild and wounded language - his wound is one of love - which, however, also leaves room for silence, that other sumptuous form of mourning.

Shining like a small sword forged in filigree by "the thread of the word / that makes this world / more than what it is", this book, in its severe and at the same time vulnerable gesture, brings its rare light to remind us, as in dreams, that "every forest that burns, all life / that burns / finds its limit in the flow of the river."

Sonia Scarabelli

This book sinks - it is not afraid to sink - in the weaknesses and strengths, the miseries that constitute our being in the world as material beings: that way in which the body, the same body that other times exploded with vitality and desire, borders on its own disappearance.

Claudia masin