When studying history, you’ll find that each conflict is described with a set of dates, which implies a defined beginning and end. When living through a war, the time seems indistinct, forming a continuous stream. The war was yesterday, it is today, and it will be tomorrow.
When seeing new grasses sprouting through the holes caused by bomb explosions, I asked myself: is the war lasting that long, or is the grass growing this fast? Seeds need to send shoots up toward the sky, adapting to the scattered fragments in search of light. I feel I must adjust to the sick reality of war in search of peace of mind.
