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‘ When I woke up I had become an ant. I trailed over my parents’ body. The stench of their rotting flesh piercing my senses. My heart grew faint. ” They are dying. ” But a flash came. The roar of the rain was God’s voice. The rain had come and that which ought to die is now made alive. ‘
In earthly gardens, a man sows seeds into the ground. After a season of rain, the seed transforms into a living plant. It flowers. It bears fruits. To me, this is what death could be like. The burial of the dead can be seen as an act of sowing, out of which another life occurs. This series of black and white images are taken from the bodies of my parents, but are captured in an such an abstract way that they are almost unrecognizable.
I wish to make a short story. To imagine a tale in which their bodies go through a metamorphosis. From fleshly forms to stars in the night, the moon, the earth, and the seasons of time that go on and on.
- Sean Lee / Singapore