Sacrifice experiences are similar to diving into the dark, deep waters of infinity, which are stroken by obsessive thoughts and it seems that there is no and will never be a way out. If all the tears could be collected, one would make a sea of them. Sea of tears, hardened like a boiling lava.
The sacrifices pass by in the rush of everyday life, we do not notice their faces, do not feel their pain. Pain is not something spoken about, it is customary to be silent.
Sacrifice. When the pillars that supported the once sustainable building collapse, fairy tale castles grow out of their splinters.
What makes a sacrifice a sacrifice? Indifference, cruelty, or someone’s violence? Does sacrifice make this decision herself or does it happen due to the circumstances or actions of other people?
Sacrifice. When the wings break, fallen feathers turn into fabulous patterns on the canvas.
Something is lost forever and irrevocably, as if something was broken in this complex mechanism and in one second turned into despair.
The sacrifice is a touch to death. But this is a simultaneous touch to the meaning of our existence. This is a fee for awareness of our own fragility and the transition to a new level. And it will always stay with us, visibly or invisibly.
Sacrifice. When the words are burned, the ashes of unanswered letters turns into a special code, rolled into layers and flows, creating new textures.
What should be put on the altar, and will this sacrifice be accepted by those to whom it is addressed?
Sacrifice. When I sacrifice myself, and though I give all I possess to the poor, and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing…
