0030

Dimensions: 8 x 5

My old village was built in a place in the high hills. And there was a stream which ran past through the mountains. And there was a bridge made of wood. And we had much already. Then came one year and the airplanes bombed and we were much afraid. It led us to make a hole into the hills.

Then one day in the morning the airplanes came and flew back and forth over our village. It caused us all to go into the hole. Just into the hole. The planes bombed that bridge because they didn't want us to be able to cross anymore.

Artist: Man 19 years old