The trade fair on photography, photokina, schowcases some 1,000 exhibitors from 40 countries and runs from 20 to 25 September. And then, when I surfaced 20 years later, I discovered there was a storm, a whirlpool, a blasting gale lifting the waves over my head. She has been shortlisted twice each for the Goldsmiths Prize and Booker Prize and won the Prix Femina Etranger.

As for me, well as both a mother and a daughter, I enjoyed the exploration of parental exploitation alongside the guilt and frustrations felt with filial obligation.I was intrigued by her wish to “be a woman and to be a man” because it was obvious to me that femininity, as written by men and performed by women, was the exhausted phantom that still haunted the early 21st century. A sculpture of a crescent standing on the 2,140 meters high mountain 'Freiheit' (German for 'freedom'), in the Alpstein region of the Appenzell alps, eastern Switzerland.

Sontag says, ‘I’m afraid of my mother, afraid of her harshness and coldness, and, of course, afraid that she’ll just collapse, fade out on me, never get out of that bed.Staring at my penis, so I got an erection, (Deborah Levy laughs) and that became frozen too, which is to say, Lapinski, what am I to do with this lip-stuck Rizla? The oldest star is about 13 billion years old but the stars on my screen saver are two years old and were made in China. It seems to me that out of all the books we’re discussing at the moment, the mother in The Lover is the saddest. An exploration of sexuality, female rage, mother-daughter relationships, and, ultimately, finding one's own life. I explored the family trees in my joints, muscles, bones, and then I became totally paralysed… statue-like in front of the statue Freud.

The sense of Sofia’s life with her mother (or against her mother) is built through an accumulation of detail, a constellation of symbols and narrative bursts. She felt that it was her job to keep her mother alive for the duration of her own childhood, and that she’d sacrificed her own need ‘to learn and to be dependant’. Jo Applin from the Courtauld Institute of Art looks at Green Tilework in Live Flesh by Adriana Vareja, which features in a new exhibition, Flesh, at York Art Gallery.I knew I had to do this from the very first sentence: ‘When Kitty finch took her hand off the steering wheel and told him she loved him, he no longer knew if she was threatening him or having a conversation. Hot Milk is an exploration of filial and maternal love, memory and the reciprocal bonds of duty and obligation.