54 days of sharing one Ukrainian artist's work everyday. I do not possess those images. Each featured person is free to refuse to be seen. None protested.
A special thought for the artist from Lviv today, who was about to celebrate Easter with her loved-ones.

Of course every road is paved with good intentions. All we have to find is whether it's the one that goes to hell.

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So I've been spending my time imagining objects that looks different when they're born by my hands

I've been spending my time imagining caves in which we look at the shadows on the walls.
I've been tracing thousands of 0.5cm squares on a rice paper roll once found in a second-hand industrial shop where a bed bug pandemic was going on and probably still is today.
I've been conceiving straw roads on which smoke humans would float rather than walk, listening to Eminem, the chest soar as the question "are those from my stories still alive" occasionally rose.

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While inevitably the weaver who teaches me how to work believes my patterns are jokes meant to disturb her usual rituals around the time of Christian Easter.

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Have you heard them? They're whimping at night.

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Their fluids make one with the gulping earth.