Sergio del Molino - Skin

We go in deeper, don’t worry, I’m right here, grab the noodle, I’m here, I haven’t gone anywhere, it’s okay, want to see how deep we are? A moment comes when I’ll go down. See that? I went right down and stuck my arms up, and my hands didn’t touch the surface; it’s over three metres here. That isn’t super deep for a lake, but it’s great for swimming. Shall we go and duck Mama? Grab onto my shoulders, I’ll pull you along like a speedboat.

There is no intimacy more sealed off or clear. In the water with your child, there’s a wonderful fusion of being and becoming. He is the child, we are the parents; any need for justification falls away. There’s no identity that needs defending, no story to construct (as a politician would say), no role to play or need to feel oneself part of a hierarchy or organisation. We just are. In an essential, simple way; no tragedy. This is what Stalin was looking for in Sochi with Artyom: the chance to truly be.

This metaphysic will be better understood with the story I’ll come onto now. A story about the things parents do when their children aren’t looking.

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