We gather under warm light in the shed.
We are here.
Sunday night in the garden means we are protected from the eyes of the world.
Time passed and the dust of our evenings settled on the bags filled with tools. They replaced us in a space we claimed as our own. Why do we care, it’s just a shed, right?
Until it’s not.
Until the skeleton leaves echoes in my mind of her battles with cancer.
Until I can no longer peer out my window without feeling a pang of guilt as her life titters on a balance that is destined to one-day pronounce death.
Sunday night is not the same. But my grandmother always will be the soul embodied in the piece of soil held under our name, and under our love.
Born in Poland, Julia Karas is a photographer, fine artist, and theatre actress living in New York. The concepts of her art come intuitively, functioning as an emotional outlet. Her work focuses on ideas of nostalgia and fleeting time, along with the struggle to understand one’s place in society. Karas hopes to pursue neuroscience while keeping art an integral part of her life.