"The stripe is not disorder; it is a sign of disorder and means of restoring order. The stripe is not exclusion; it is a mark of exclusion and an attempt at reintegration. In the stripe there is always something that resists enclosure within systems, something that brings with it distress and confusion, something that makes disorder. Not only does the stripe show and hide at the same time, but it is altogether the figure and the substance, the finite and the infinite,the part and the whole."

Any stripe surface is uncontrollable, nearly unperceivable. Not only it plays trompe l‘oeil, do we know where it actually begins and where it ends? Where is the empty and the full, the opened and the closed, the areas of density and desaturation? Which is the primary level and which the one in front of it? Which is under and which is over?
Where is the actual event playing? in the foreground or background? Where is the foreground and where is the background? How do we see where the stripe starts to play its role, and where it stops? How does it let us cross its borders and how does it execute us from the actual role?

"As opposed to the plain, the stripe constitutes an abnormality, an accent, a mark. But used alone, it becomes an illusion, disrupts the gaze, seems to flash, to move about, to flee. There is no difference anymore between the structure and the figure. The structure has become the figure. The pure stripe no longer stops the eye. It clarifies and obscures the view, disturbs the mind, confuses the senses."

This dynamic surface has a visual priority, my body no longer plays its role, its overloaded by the suit that covers my skin. I no longer carry stripes, the stripes carry my body and my attitude.
My horizontal striped costume as a criminal is interconnected with the vertical prison bars, putting me in a cage, excluding me more from the society. I’ m isolated. My pajamas no longer protect me from the evil spirits, with the shadows of my window shutters, I no longer sleep in tranquility.
Stripes changed my body to more masculine, I lost my femininity between the stripes. Its finally overruled me, and the rhythm of the stripe is no longer harmonic and pleasurable, but opened the door of craziness towards madness.
 
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