CERAMIC OBJECT
The wounded and tormented poplars stand as a silent symbol of shattered hopes, their branches, which just recently reached for the sun and dreamed of budding in spring and blooming with green leaves, now severed by one confident and senseless stroke of cold steel.
The ghosts of the branches and phantom pains at the cut stumps remind us of the dreams that have been cut off, gone so quickly and so suddenly, without warning, without a chance to say goodbye. The man with the axe is not interested in dreams; his cold heart will not be stirred by spring, and the green leaves will not awaken a poet within him. Yet in the tortured hearts of the poplars, love continues to live; it binds them together and allows them to believe that new branches can still grow, that they can learn to dream again.
