Borders

I painted this on a wall in Gori, years ago. It tells a story that is not imagined- but lived. When the wire fence came, it cut through yards, through orchards heavy with fruit, through lives that once moved freely.
The apples fell on the other side. So close you could smell them, so far you could never touch.
This is what occupation looks like, not only land taken, but moments, memories, and the taste of home.

აი, როგორია ოკუპაცია: როცა არა მხოლოდ მიწას გართმევენ, არამედ წუთებს, მოგონებებს და სახლის გემოსაც კი.