Survival is the cure sweetest rationing poison The queue never ends You come in you snoop out you leave you wash it down with pomegranate juice you undergo verbal diarrhea you shit out the emotions you show such a fake smile they believe you Life is a chain of beautiful lies into which death sends innocent glances you resign yourself to eating alphabet soup full of radioactive emotions hallucinations on your plate but in your mouth After the big words, the dryness of the mind, the heart is churning, the heart is slowing down, the feet are spacing out, waiting for someone to finally slap you in the face. Classically, nothing happens. Absence of salvation is a great responsibility to be in the day, but not of it. The less you try, the more success you reap.
Death is a taboo. Death is the problem. Death is a surprise. What happens when we dress death up in festive? A round-table funeral feast. It goes around and whoever the word falls on has to get out of the round.

1. theme - death, the cycle, renewal, celebration, questioning, opening the discussion.
2. process - follow-up to my previous work
3. means - poetry, ceramics, sewn tablecloth, sound, natural materials
4. context - life
5. reflection - I'm going to live like I've never lived before, so that where there is nothing even death doesn't take