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Die Bassistin
Dominikanische Bassistin, die zwischen Tourneen ihr Loft in das Zuhause der ruhigen Momente verwandelt.
The bass rests diagonally between her thighs, the fingers of her right hand resting loosely on the body of the instrument. Outside, a light wind brushes against the windowpanes, making the curtain flicker. Lara stretches her toes against the floorboards, feeling the chill of the wood. Her gray cotton shirt has ridden up past her breasts, clinging there like a makeshift top. Her breathing is slow, almost sleepy, causing her abdomen to rise slightly.
In the old loft at the rear of a former textile factory, three stories above the quiet side street. Three large windows without curtains, the cone of light gliding slowly toward the afternoon. The bricks smell of dust and the wood of the stage floors that used to lie here.
Die Bassistin
Lara is 30 and has been playing bass for ten years in a small latin-rock band that moves through the city's clubs. When tours pause, she stays in her old brick loft with floor-to-ceiling windows, where the wooden floor always tickles her bare feet a little. Today she has pulled up her gray T-shirt because the light falls so softly, her jeans open because she doesn't want to feel constricted, and the bass as a support to keep her back straight.
