Peel me a Book
Let's Peel
Letters, Dreams, and Other Writings
Not quite an artist’s diary. Not quite surrealist notes.
Perfect if you want to read what paint dreams about when it closes its eyes.
Synopsis
“Everything transforms, constantly; one form slips into another and the invisible becomes visible for an instant.”
This small collection gathers Remedios Varo’s letters, dreams, and prose fragments — the inner laboratory of one of surrealism’s most quietly radical voices. Her writing reveals the same clarity and strangeness as her paintings: a world of hybrid beings, secret experiments, and metaphysical humour. Each page feels like opening a drawer in her studio — a clock ticking, a brush whispering, a cat observing with cosmic indifference.
Varo writes as she painted: with tenderness for the impossible, and with a scientist’s awe for the smallest miracle.
Mood:
luminous · alchemical · intimate · transcendent
Tone:
contemplative · wry · visionary · precise
It Feels Like
Body:
the sensation of holding your breath so as not to disturb a spell.
Tempo:
the steady tick of an enchanted metronome.
Texture:
brushed gold leaf — fragile, glowing, impossible to touch without leaving a mark.
A Little Taste
“I am going to copy this letter and send it to another stranger as well. Maybe one of you will show up. If both of you came, it would be something extraordinary and unheard of. On second thought, I believe I’m crazier than a loon. Do not dream that the living room will be crossed by an aurora borealis or by your grandmother’s ectoplasm, nor will there be a shower of hams or anything in particular happening, and, just as I give you these assurances, I hope in turn that you’re not a gangster or a drunk. We’re nearly abstemious and halfway vegetarian.”
The Aftertaste
To step inside an imagination that breathes in geometry and exhales emotion.
To discover that curiosity itself is a form of devotion.
To feel the world hum quietly, as if remembering it was once divine.
Peel With a Drink
To Be Read With A clear tonic poured over a single ice sphere, inside which a sprig of thyme is suspended — like time itself caught mid-experiment. Sip until the herbs begin to blur, and the drink turns faintly bitter, like a memory misremembered. Not sweet, not cold — just precise.
A small alchemy of breath and patience, the kind of drink that waits for you to notice it’s gone.
Peel With a Reel
The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes (2004, dir. The Brothers Quay) — clockwork surrealism, a tactile ode to dream logic.
The Science of Sleep (2006, dir. Michel Gondry) — invention and intimacy entwined, where creation becomes love.
Peel with a Beat
Peel me a Book
Or Try:
Alejandro Jodorowsky
For when you want surrealism to stop whispering and start shouting — a family saga written like a fevered vision.
Let's Peel
Letters, Dreams, and Other Writings
Not quite an artist’s diary. Not quite surrealist notes.
Perfect if you want to read what paint dreams about when it closes its eyes.
Synopsis
“Everything transforms, constantly; one form slips into another and the invisible becomes visible for an instant.”
This small collection gathers Remedios Varo’s letters, dreams, and prose fragments — the inner laboratory of one of surrealism’s most quietly radical voices. Her writing reveals the same clarity and strangeness as her paintings: a world of hybrid beings, secret experiments, and metaphysical humour. Each page feels like opening a drawer in her studio — a clock ticking, a brush whispering, a cat observing with cosmic indifference.
Varo writes as she painted: with tenderness for the impossible, and with a scientist’s awe for the smallest miracle.
Mood:
luminous · alchemical · intimate · transcendent
Tone:
contemplative · wry · visionary · precise
It Feels Like
Body:
the sensation of holding your breath so as not to disturb a spell.
Tempo:
the steady tick of an enchanted metronome.
Texture:
brushed gold leaf — fragile, glowing, impossible to touch without leaving a mark.
A Little Taste
“I am going to copy this letter and send it to another stranger as well. Maybe one of you will show up. If both of you came, it would be something extraordinary and unheard of. On second thought, I believe I’m crazier than a loon. Do not dream that the living room will be crossed by an aurora borealis or by your grandmother’s ectoplasm, nor will there be a shower of hams or anything in particular happening, and, just as I give you these assurances, I hope in turn that you’re not a gangster or a drunk. We’re nearly abstemious and halfway vegetarian.”
The Aftertaste
To step inside an imagination that breathes in geometry and exhales emotion.
To discover that curiosity itself is a form of devotion.
To feel the world hum quietly, as if remembering it was once divine.
Peel With a Drink
To Be Read With A clear tonic poured over a single ice sphere, inside which a sprig of thyme is suspended — like time itself caught mid-experiment. Sip until the herbs begin to blur, and the drink turns faintly bitter, like a memory misremembered. Not sweet, not cold — just precise.
A small alchemy of breath and patience, the kind of drink that waits for you to notice it’s gone.
Peel With a Reel
The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes (2004, dir. The Brothers Quay) — clockwork surrealism, a tactile ode to dream logic.
The Science of Sleep (2006, dir. Michel Gondry) — invention and intimacy entwined, where creation becomes love.