The material world is expanding and stretching upon our environment until, overloaded, it collapses into a pile of gray noise, the components of which have long lost their identity. From prairies of this planet's metropolitan jungle we drew the raw materials of our work, using them, as a bird does, while building her nest with twigs of local fields.
The shape of the dome is a natural choice for a self carrying structure and it gives highest volume to surface ratio, thus more space is enclosed with least material.
The spectator observes a hemisphere with a familiar contexture, though strange in context, like a waste starlet or an improvised spaceship of modern holocaust escapees.
Coming nearer, the spectator may read the stories told by the various objects, a democratic cacophony of new relationships between them, with a recognizable solo sound here and there, protruding from the seemingly homogenous composition.