My memory is a weeping willow. The long sinewy branches sweep the ground and stir the dust of my past. Hello to the twinkling specks of mica in the soil. It is that soil which grounds me, and holds the moments I’ve lived that I can’t quite reach that dance sparking around. I know they’re there, but I can’t hold them. I’m growing closer and closer to the ground, slowly, anticipating and reaching for something that may never come back. I can’t say if I’ll ever know my own mind well again. It’s lost. The branches of my memories have been trimmed too short. The wind blows and I let myself be taken sideways and up, back down and away in chaotic yet calm movements. My bones creak and relax as I accept the grains of what I cannot control.
Weight (kg) | 4.5 |
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Dimensions LxWxH | 80x38x45cm (31x15x18'') |