At the scorched field in the village, the ash seeped into the soil with each rain and the winter gusts snatched at the reeds. There was a bone. The death of the animal was white. Crows were crying. Perhaps they witnessed it and came for the body. She passed away. Father informed me about her condition a day before her death. The tragedy was standing on. She had been in the coma. Her body was here but her mind had drifted somewhere else.
I walked in the woods in the dawn after meditation. The frozen night came to a harsh landscape, and the quiet mountains turned into a spiritual place in the sudden transition of climate. During the hike, the strangeness from the absence of life overwhelmed me by the lack of sensory experience. Frankly, this condition of absence brought a vivid memory of what existed in this place and an intensive presence of them.
I started to have a question, whether the existence can be defined by a form of life and death since I saw the fragility of life and its boundary when I had encountered my family members in the coma. And I had realized the paradoxical presence after the lives vanished in mountains by the frost and fire.There was a fearful emptiness and at the same time, a silent comfort. The lack of reality I felt triggered me to imagine a phase in between life and death and the world beyond the existence. I began capturing a pervasive sense of temporarily and mystery in a place that was both familiar and alien. From the raw state of nature, I observed the unknown forms of existence and the metaphoric gesture of the link between the absence and presence of being.