Galatea Aurea

She slides out of the shadow like a lustful viper. Lascivious, yet serene. Victorious. When Galatea Aurea enters a room, she makes it her temple. Everything about Galatea is noble and exquisite, as if every gene has been selected with special care. That one-of-a-kind beautiful, chiseled face. With those jewel eyes. Her sculpture-like body with elegant limbs is shimmering with smoothness and suppleness. She is a divine creature, Galatea, who rises from the depths of time. What does she represent, this sensual figurine? A Roman courtesan? A papal mistress? A high priestess and oracle; a Sybil in a trance caught In the eager embrace of her God? Galatea’s beauty is of ancient timelessness. I think when I say Thessalian witches you get what I mean.

Galatea Aurea about herself.

“You are the whore of Babylon!” – that was more or less the curse with which I was cast out of my strictly religious parental home. But I am not of a negligent nature. It did not come out of the blue for me to choose the path of mortal sin. I, Galatea, have always been dead serious about everything. I recognised myself, the starry sky above me, and the higher moral law within me and thus, the superstition which I grew up with lost its power over me. I gained power over myself. I feel it; how it blends with my femininity. Those who, like me, sacrifice heaven to preserve themselves lose all fear, except that of being bereft of this freedom again. And it is in the sorrow of being abandoned that I become most aware of myself. The subversion of the succubus…