About Artwork


14.5x9.6 cm
Limited edition print

I’m here, holding on to this piece of grass, the moon on my rough skin, holding on, holding on. The oryx looks to the West, she’s afraid, I don’t know why. The snail moves slowly, oblivious, leaving her trail on fungi, on rocks, and shells, on rusting pieces of jewellery, which once meant something to someone.

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