writing down on paper thoughts and feelings of the moment, fast, unfiltered, visceral, is a way of journaling. In this series, there is handwritten text in blue ink that has been ‘buried’ under blocks of black ink lines. You can’t read it, but it’s there: a result of ‘pouring out’, ‘letting it out’ by writing down burst-outs of thoughts, feelings, confessions. But then this journaling became something else when, after writing, a simple repetitive action took place: covering the text, word by word, slowly and meticulously with another pen, with small lines on the same direction, leaving only the gaps in-between words - all this done with tiny, accurate, detailed hand movements. And as the words were buried one by one, something else was gradually revealed, something that looks like an ancient building from above without its roof, but with its walls and corridors still standing, like an architectural edifice: a labyrinth of rhythms, sounds, words, phrases, personal manners of thinking, of feeling, of speaking, of writing. So the contrast and symbolism in putting down on paper personal thoughts of the moment and then covering, ‘burying’ what’s written word by word slowly with obsessive care and detail, created a new situation: as feelings and thoughts form words, the words are then being submerged under a tapestry of small repetitive actions. The repetition, however is not mechanical: it is intimate and meditative as well, and it triggers memories of childhood being recalled - my grandmother and mother doing embroidery.