WE ARE BORN WITH THE DEAD
When I was a child my sister told me that I am adopted. That was not true, but it left a great impact on me. I was devastated. When my mother got to know this I was overwhelmed by all kinds of proof that I am a legitimate member of the family. I grew up with constant approval of my kinship. I was told - your lips are just like your grandfathers, your eyes are just like your grandmothers, your legs are just like your great-grandmothers and so on. I loved it, I loved to see them - my ancestors in old photos, I was not me I was their clone. So I was never alone. I am never alone, because I was born with the dead.
Self-portrait made only from my relatives' photographs.
