When an object can’t serve its purpose, for example, because it’s broken, too old or not usable anymore, we are able to see it the way it manifests itself.

A life does not understand why is exists. What gives it shape?  What makes it meaningful? 

You are born and wrapped in a blanket. When you die, it is laid over you. During your life, you lie under a blanket every night, that you clean, put away, iron, tuck in and throw out when it’s used up.

The daily contact with a blanket is fused with our lives. 

Over and over again the blanket revealed itself to me, like it told something about my own existence. I saw: this is also how I am. In that space not understanding why it’s there and why it exists. It is as touching as absurd. Thats’s how we all are, thats what humans are.