Fabric and metal wire. 15 pieces, 7 characters. 200cm x 200cm x 200cm

I am in the corridor. I am dead.

My parents and brother are coming out of their rooms, and they are dead.

For weeks before, I dreamt of this moment many times, hearing the bomb explode,

being dead. And here I am, just as I imagined. My ears ringing, the detonation clear

as a bell, the force throwing me from bed.

And then I am alive, remembering the girl we found in the bombed out building, down

the street, on the second floor, in a red coat. And she was dead. Never alive again.

I am cutting old clothes, removing fabric between the stitching. The remains take me

back to the girl, to the war, to genocide. I remember playing Seven Stones in the

street, laughing.

And I begin to cry. There can never be enough crying.

The ghosts of these children, the remains of their clothes, the joy of the game, the

street, my friends pull me into the next moment, and pull and pull. I am a ghost

traveling because I am dead.