Life happens through the simplest surrounding objects and events of our routine life.
Objects which never insist on the legitimacy of their own presence, and form our sober, real image of ourselves without any imposition. compressed plastic bottles is the precise image of mankind and his perplexities to me , Mankind- gradually deformed, compressed and buried under the heaviness of the life he had imposed to himself when released from the pressure, opens his way out of the piled layers,breathes in and fills himself up constantly.
As though life had been the repetition and fluctuations of this compressing and filling from eternity, and one will be smothered under its weight if he doesn’t give himself a chance to breath.
Now, watching the bottles I see myself abandoned my home, sometimes compressed and weary under the pressure of its newfound layers, and sometimes breathing in throughout the mass inside me in an unknown solitude, and feel lightened up from any weight.