One year ago we moved to Romania. We live in a country house that hosted a marble workshop. There are several tombstones in the garden, also parts and scattered pieces.
One day my dog catched a little bird, he died in my hands. I buried it as I used to do when I was a kid. I dug a hole under the cypress and put it in, with some food and a coin for the travel and flowers to make it beautiful, and two big pieces of marble on top, so that other animals won't bother his journey.
Burial is the moment in which the end and the beginning meet. The seed needs to be planted, the chrysalis abandoned. The old shape is lost. I celebrated the burial of an existence left behind and out of the tombstone I made the tools for a new one.