Sometimes it is the search for the ‚right material‘ where I find a meaningfull connection for myself, that through thinking alone is non existent. This ‚material‘ already has its story, like all things for that matter. Only we do not really know them. Because they are different. As well as equal. I know them and do not know them. Things are not us, they do not recognize us, but often carry our traces, remains of their original state. Scrap yards are museums of industrial culture. I see things, find stories, counterpoints of emptiness, where everything has a beginning. Just now!