About the work

She was told to look at the tree. Not to touch it, not to ask about the sacks, not to wonder about the hay. Just look at the tree. It was a new tree, still damp from its journey out of the sand, and the moon was reflecting on every single needle. She concentrated with the fierce gravity only a child can summon, convinced that if she stared hard enough, the tree would explain everything. What the tree said, or didn't say, she has never told anyone.