Until always and forever. Now in 1944. After all the hours lived through. The vectors continue in their original direction. Nothing stops them. With no more knowledge than live emotion. With no other wish than to go on until they meet. Slowly. With great unease, but with the certainty that all is guided by the "golden section". There is cellular arrangement. There is movement. There is light. All centers are the same. Folly doesn't exist. We are the same as we were and as we will be. Not counting on idiotic destiny.
Letter to Diego Rivera (1944), in "The Diary of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait"; ed. Carlos Fuentes & C. Fuentes; Abrams, Harry N. Inc. 2005