Every time I see a rusty nail on the ground, I put it in my pocket. I dream of what it was before and what it might become, and I remember them. To "remember" is to put back together, to make whole. I feel kinship to broken, cast-aside things. I want to find a meaning in the meaningless. The compulsion to collect detritus seems a pointless gesture, yet it is precisely this odd behavior that reveals whom we are. I explore the humanness of absurdity and futility, finding value in unfulfilled wishes. I cherish a process of making that invites fantasy of what could be. With my idiosyncratic actions I genuinely pay attention to my surroundings.

As a woman and resident alien in the US, I often think about what it means to go across geographical and emotional borders. How do we draw the line between adjacent matters? Would I succumb to the expectations to belong somewhere? No. I know, however, that I will forever be wishing to belong somewhere. I embrace contradiction, parodying my own identity as one who doesn't fit into a category. In everchanging, shifting landscapes, I am seeking a way to exist with the present in equilibrium.