Sculptures

 
 

The first time I sculpted, I remembered the feeling of the wet sand flirting with my hands while I was playing on the beach as a little girl. I closed my eyes and touched the clay again and again, trying to catch my memories. 

The second time I sculpted, I remembered the wrinkly skin of my grandmother's cheeks; the third time, the tenderness of my first love's kiss.

 From then, I kept sculpting, more and more in order to touch the past I cannot formulate in words.