Vulcanization* — a mysterious alchemy that turns soft, pliable rubber into something enduring and unbreakable.
I love botanical gardens,
flea markets,
libraries,
and those hidden little diners tucked away at the edge of nowhere.
I love them because unpredictability always lingers there, like a scent in the air.
I love volcanoes, and I dedicate my graphic works to them. I cut my fingers for them, gift lava to my friends, carry hardened stones in the secret pockets of my backpack, and still get anxious at airports, afraid someone might notice.
I love transformation. Even when it hurts.
You scrape your knees, your elbows, and then your heart is knocked off course — bruised, scratched. Your self‑esteem spills across the floor, soaks into the carpet, impossible to gather. The vessel remains empty, the carpet stained.
I love the vulcanization of my formless — or mis‑shaped — ideas, theories, feelings. The soft rubber within me hardens, gains resilience. Shapes emerge. Elasticity. Strength. Toughness. Rubber once fragile becomes hard to tear, capable of enduring far more than before.
I am hard to tear apart. I endure. I survive.
When I am unbreakable, the pain will cease. My shape — inside and out — will be fixed.
But… can I step off the path, never return?
Can I wish for someone to value my work enough to make fear obsolete?
To gift me a dress that carries the scent of the sea wherever I wear it?
Could the next person I love leave my ceramic heart intact — glued lengthwise and crosswise, yet still whole?
Or perhaps… can I simply never fall in love again?
If surgery were required, surgeons would marvel: a heart like Gaudí’s trencadís, broken, lost, found in trams, reassembled countless times.
Yet, no. That is not possible.
Vulcanization is happening. It is natural. Necessary.
It is the transformation of childhood flaws, weaknesses, and fears into resilient, living material.
Endure.
That is why you came to Germany — the masters of vulcanization are here.
You will become resilient, strong, unafraid, when you learn to say no, to say yes, to value yourself, to set goals and achieve them, to earn, to move, to push your own limits. To allow yourself to live where you wish, to speak imperfect German, to stop fearing those who could hurt you.
To rebuild. To repaint. To buy the bed and the lamp you desire.
To settle. To simply be.
To pass your driving test.
To dance. At least once a week.
To stop waiting for anyone.
To stop fearing heights. To embrace solitude. To fry pancakes.
And, finally, to become yourself.
Vulcanization — a mysterious alchemy that transforms you into who you were always meant to be.
— a complex technological process that transforms plastic rubber into durable rubber.
I love botanical gardens, flea markets, libraries, and authentic, hidden little diners lost amid the wilderness. I love them because there, unpredictability always lingers.
I love volcanoes, and I dedicate my graphic works to them. I cut my fingers while engraving for them. I gift lava to my friends. I get anxious at airports, worried that the staff might find the hardened little stones I’ve tucked into the inner pockets of my backpack.
I love to transform. Though sometimes it hurts terribly. You scrape your knees and elbows, then your heart gets knocked off the road, bruised and scratched — oops, your self-esteem spilled on the floor, soaked into the carpet, no way to gather it back in your palms, and the vessel stays empty again. While the carpet remains dirty.
I love to feel the vulcanization of my formless—or fused into wrong shapes—concepts and meanings, theories, senses, constructions; because the rubber flowing inside me is turning into durable rubber. In this process, the shape of the product is fixed. It becomes more elastic, strong, and tough. Rubber after vulcanization is hard to tear, its performance characteristics improve, and its endurance reaches incredible levels.
I am hard to tear apart, and my endurance reaches incredible levels.
When I become impossible to tear, it will no longer hurt at all. I tell myself. And my shape will be fixed—inside and out.
But… can I get off at the next stop and never get back on? Can I order, for dinner, that someone buy my work for such a sum that I’ll never be afraid again? And offer me a lifelong contract? Could someone gift me a dress that, no matter where I wear it, I always feel like I’m by the sea? Could the next man I fall in love with not shatter my ceramic heart, glued back together lengthwise and crosswise? Or maybe, could I just never fall in love again?
If it needed surgery, surgeons would be amazed: a heart like the trencadís in Gaudí’s Barcelona park. Broken, lost, forgotten in trams, pieced together too many times.
But no, that’s not possible.
Vulcanization is happening. It’s a natural process. A transformation. The upgrading of the rubber of your weaknesses and childhood flaws into a plastic, resilient material. Endure. That’s why you ended up in Germany—here are the best vulcanizers. Only then will you become vulcanized and strong, when you learn not to be afraid, learn to say no, learn to say yes, learn to value yourself, earn money, set your own goals and achieve them, learn to do pull-ups on bars and push-ups not like a girl. Then, when you can allow yourself to move to the country you want, for good. Or speak broken German for the rest of your life. When you no longer fear men as something that could destroy you, after which restoration is needed again. To look for resources, money, maybe even cut your hair short, repaint the walls inside. When you buy yourself the bed you want, the lamp you want, when you let yourself settle and just be. When you pass your driving test. Buy a car and a home. When you dance. At least every week. When you stop waiting for anyone.
When you stop fearing heights, homelessness, learn to love sleeping alone, learn to fry pancakes—
and become yourself.
Vulcanization* — a complex technological process
that transforms you
into
you.