Reconstructing intricate layers of stacked white paper through drapes and folds, the designs embody a fearless and imaginative spirit that dare city dwellers to unleash their creativities and transcend the constrains of everyday life, like what a raging story did to a book.
Pat her to earth, mama. Please pat her to earth. Sing her A lullaby, spin her a tale of kind and unkind. Like Harjoβs voice: We all have our heartaches.
The June-moon is humming before we snap the roses of July we can read, mama and we can also write
"Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. Not in the individual mind, which
can make mistakes, and in any case soon perishes: only in the mind of the Party, which
is collective and immortal. Whatever the Party holds to be the truth, is truth. It is
impossible to see reality except by looking through the eyes of the Party. β (β1984β George Orwell)