Journal

I open a folder named ‘Process 2014 – 2015’. Keeping a journal was supposed to put the world in order. I then stick 200+ prints on my living room wall.

I am scavenging for endless impressions, for attention and love. Relentless and aggressive, I am in a repetitive loop of same experiences.

In a closed space, my mind seems to be bouncing like a ping pong ball. Back and forth, to and fro, to and fro. On the far right side of my wall, photos of tropical plants appear. The space opens up.

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