In the back of your head a soft constant whisper and a heavy load anchoring you in the past — dragging, slowly, your whole body cries out and freedom calls back — the freedom you choose to believe in — the first act of free will. without placing labels and ultimate terminology you intuit that your love pain and sadness is not just a determined material process yet there is no space to exist within that uncertainty — unless you carve it out for yourself. hell! carve it out for yourself. Perhaps you’ll become a sculptor of the unknown — you’ll create a piece that will stand for others to see and wonder and feel invited and feel togetherness, which is to say your sculpture might be another door to being a human.