Post #2775

When I was two years old, my father went into the woods with the intention of never coming back. For almost 20 years, my parents chose silence about his suicidal attempt. And still, I found myself drawn to the place where the incident happened and on its anniversary a wave of grief washed over me. When my parents finally decided to tell me, it all started to make sense. This project started out as an investigation into the traces of a well-kept family secret. While I was revisiting my parents’ trauma – its places, objects and memories that I could not call my own – I found it here, inside myself. My body always knew. This is a story about the impossibility of secrets, about what we are sharing when we hide. It is about pain inflicted out of love, about the complexity of silence, and the unexplainable sadness.