This piece consists of two parts. The time itself collides on it. Spirals, lines tell you that when I started to draw it I was thinking about a bright future. I was wishing it without even believing in it for sure. I wanted to believe. That someday somehow I figure out how to support myself with art. And my mom died. The piece was lying unfinished when I was trying to understand, to comprehend what happened. What was the point? How could I think about art in the time of mourning? What kind of daughter am I even thinking about it? But I wanted to change something. To finish. Be able to say goodbye to the piece. While I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to my mom.