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Photographs, dried plants

I collect plants - those that trample, those that are burned out, those that are forgotten, which are passed by. I photograph the sky above - pieces of clouds, cirrus, cumulus, layered; I try to capture the nature, carry it away with me, put it in my pocket, and hide it in a desk drawer. I dry the plants between the photographs of the sky and wait, but the only thing I get is the barely noticeable marks on the pictures, tiny traces of barely begun smoldering.

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