In the late 1980s I came head to head with one of Medusas decapitated heads in The Basilica Cistern in Istanbul.
We have been in contact ever since. Our communication has been difficult. That head speaks in so many archaic languages and dialects and mostly in oracles. At least I have managed to stitch her some kind of body, which she is enjoying. But we never merged, we never became head in head. We remained in a head to head relationship.
But with this freshly found head of Medusa it is different. It is a perfect match. We are from the same soil. We speak the same mother tongue. This stony Medusa head screwed itself straight into my head, into the place that had been waiting for it, onto my long prepared body. We are now head in head.
Together we have four mouths, four noses and our four tongues meander together into a Gordian knot. And we look outwards and inwards through each other's eyes. It is simply a case of stone love, unpetrified and in rocky flow.
Stone Love, Ruthie Foster
Just look around you, see that love is winning the fight
You need a stone love
Nothings' gonna move you
Nothings' gonna break up a
Stone love