spiralling

sometimes, I imagine myself as a ghost, not the one who would be wandering anxiously and searching for some form of forgiveness(?) and redemption, but the one which tries to dissolve and fuse completely with the surroundings but meets some sort of a barrier every bloody time. these images are some sort of a story of a journey, which is not a road trip, but a mosaic out of sea glass found here and there on the way and put together, to form a pattern of this border existence.