I had very strange obsessions with the tiny, clay African black bird sculptures and the bugs especially because in a sense I think they symbolized my innocence. I could hold them in my palm and when something like a slug was crawling there I felt renewed and thrown back into childhood because I wasn’t judging the slug and thought he’d be just fine spending the day with me. I could imagine the person making all of those birds too; I could imagine an adult trying to balance out the complexity of thought or momentarily fleeing his own demons through making something so simple, childlike, free and feeling content even if only in seconds in his own illusion.

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Colette Stone