I was sitting in front of the MACBA in Barcelona with a banner: “You can cut my hair.” An experiment without rules, without limits. The people came – friendly, curious, brutal. They cut, tore, took what they wanted. My hair became shorter, disheveled, fragmented. The fear grew as the scissors came closer. What if they took more? What if they hurt me?

This performance was a confrontation: What happens if we give up control? People showed their faces – gentle, insecure, reckless. In the end, I sat there with short, uneven hair, a testament to the brutality that happens when we don't set boundaries.

It was painful, frightening, but also liberating. A mirror of society, a look into the abyss, when rules are missing and empathy disappears. But I survived. I remained me - even in my devotion.