Strawberries, cherries, raspberries and apples, stuck between a fence and a hard place.
There is a map inside of me instead of the places I’ve left behind. Stairways, corridors, squares, courtyards turn into simple lines.
A poem made out of many things, all at once – for words, string, voice and an apple grinder.
String, nails, writing and binaural sound installation.
Presented as part of the group exhibition Absent Cargo at Errant Sound in August 2022.