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the dove

During an artist in residency program several doves flew against the windows of my studio and died.

They would leave a white trace that looked like a ghost and captured the moment of their death.

The dove was mistaken / To travel north she flew south / Believing the wheat was water / Believing the sea was sky / That the night was dawn /

That the stars were dew / That the heat was snowfall / Your skirt your blouse / Your heart her home /

She fell asleep on the shore, you at the tip of a branch. (Poem by Rafael Alberti)


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2015, Spaghetti on Acrylglas, 140 x 140 cm