Description

It lies quiet now — a slab of flesh-colored silence. Dug into one square meter of territory of terror. A grave before the grave. No hope. No future.

In eastern Ukraine, men crawl like fetuses, pulling pins with their teeth. Grenades as an escape from shock and pain. Hiding from drones. The drones hunt in groups of two or three for a single soldier. They drop explosions into trenches – guided by game-like teams. This thing – these pink fractures of a sculpture – does not mourn. It reminds us of dumb, brutal stupidity. The freedom to choose death. The right not for happiness – but to be torn.