About the work

The cereal bowl belonged to the tall one on the right, the one whose hand is resting on his knee. He bought it at a thrift store near campus because it was deep enough for a generous serving of granola, and the glaze reminded him of the milky way. He thought it would be a good conversation starter, a small gesture towards a more interesting life, but it never was. Everyone just ate from it, silently, then put it in the sink. He started washing it himself immediately after each use, just to keep it from getting lost among the other dishes. Why did he think, back then, that a bowl could ever spark a conversation?