tea

Dough balls made of flour, water, salt
and sugar previously mixed together into sticky mixture. I compare dough balls to the life of every human being. In my eyes, the existence begins similarly for all of us (except the privileges of using extra organic flour or double filtered liquid heaven in o2 state). We choose if we want to fry, steam, boil or roast our balls. We have the opportunity to pick the toppings- I like my balls with chocolate dots for a sweet addition among stupidity of others. Sometimes my batch of balls gets burnt but then I magically put myself together in to one whole piece (again) and cook another one. It’s like a vicious life cycle. I feel like a hamster trapped in a never ending spinning wheel. In my dream, I live in a wooden hut, decorated in a vintage style with natural materials, in the main room, there is a fireplace with two old, tactile worn out armchairs, and a rug with shredded sides just in front of them. There are two cups of tea and coffee made in a peculiar way, carefully placed away from the edge of the trunk of an old tree which poses as a coffee table. I’m surrounded by sweet and wild nature in the company of my amazing man, cats presenting natural poise, and a confident German shepherd. I don’t serve anyone above me. I’m free like a bat chasing a mouse. I grow old peacefully and at the end I float out to serenity.