Inspired by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571-1610) – Mary Magdalene in ecstasy aka Madeleine Klain (1606) – Oil on wood – 21,65 x 18,11 inch

Mary Magdalene is worried. HE still hasn’t returned. HE had promised. HE always keeps his promises.

She has been feeling things for several days now. And she makes no confusion with the life that grows slowly into her body. No, it’s something else. Something much bigger, much more dangerous. She tried to have two words with him with no success. HE just smiled at her and told her with his killing smile not to worry, that everything would be fine. Then HE left with men who never leave him, promising to return as soon as possible. No matter what, he would be there before the next moon.

Mary Magdalene didn’t buy it neither his alledgedly soothing speech, nor his quick move. On the contrary, her anxiety has reached heights and she can no longer control it now. Appalling pains take possession of her and her mind from now on. Terrible migraines invade her without anything to soften them. She went to see a young woman expert in miracle healing. But her condition has worsened. She felt scary. She confided in her best friend Mary. The latter offered to keep her company day and night, at least during his absence. An excellent idea that Mary Magdalene was quick to accept. Sharing your anxieties is always healthier espacially if you don’t solve the problem.

And then the time has passed. One day, then two, then three. The new moon came out and still no news. She questioned a few people from here and elsewhere. But nothing. Absolutely no information that could reassure her. Mary does what she can to distract her, change her ideas, relieve her.

Days seem endless in worry. And this child that Mary Magdalene carries in her, who hasn’t asked for anything but constantly reminds her of his existence. Hope is in her, in her body but her mind is lost, completely. Without this man, whom she loves above all, she is nothing. And yet …

This morning, when she woke up, her heart was beating harder than usual. Mary Magdalene ignored it. And then a black raven, then two, then three, then a dozen soon crashed dead in front of her door. A bad sign, it has to be.