Artsy Minds

Sunflower seeds

We’re all entities lost in a field of copies Our souls are strangled

And our voices are muted

He was born as a mass-produced, commercially available, and utilitarian object, An object that was given a name, put into a piece of cloth, and designated a Father. His tombstone read: “R. Mutt –” followed by the year of death. She was raised as one in a million, one piece scattered through a million of sunflower seeds arranged in a continuous rectangular grid upon which the Sun never falls

An industrially produced, individually handcrafted piece of ceramic that was put into a shell, assigned a home, and called a Mother.

And I – I was the childless child of these pre-fabricated items. Born with a heart of marble. Asoldier of the terra-cotta army, one of the many collections of sculptures held in the imperial treasury living among the warriors, chariots, and the horses, and buried together with the officials, acrobats, and musicians.