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Counterclockwise - clockwise
Pencil on tracing paper, wood, 2016
It was the time I arrived in Stockholm.
It felt very cold for a springtime, and I asked myself was this really the spring?
A few days after, a Swedish friend told me that she had a nightmare that she missed the summer but when she woke up it was raining outside; only then she was relieved that it is the spring and not the summer yet.
Among the passing time waiting a summer that is yet to come or not coming at all, and the nightmare of a lost summer; we are ageing without knowing if we missed our reality or we are living it in a dream?
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