Memory pillows

Started from a painting that I’ve done in March, thinking of all the summers I’ve spend in my grandma’s garden.

It seems like this year in March I stopped existing for a moment and one of the few things that felt alive were memories of summer evenings
black tea smelling like water from the well
asphalt sidewalks giving back the heat after a warm day
the cold feeling I felt on my skin from freshly watered plants

I thought about easter in my hometown

about prehistoric menhir circles

about storm that you can hear coming from afar
birds flying low

I thought about my softness
my overwhelming softness that is on the surface all the time

pink and furry, always full of hope and trust