I remember sleeping and seeing myself, the crooked shelves and coffee stains on my desk, the wool of my sweater itching my skin. While the smell of burning incense filled the room, a fly died between three half-eaten apples. That bedroom does not exist anymore. Six months later I moved out. 

What’s left are two somewhat similar non-physical spaces – a virtual room and its representation in my mind – through which I can wander like a fly.

Looped digital slideshow, 3D , UHD video, 7 minutes

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