On the eighth day

Medium

Oil on MDF

Size

90 x 35 x 1 cm

Year

2025

On the eighth day, she was transferred to my cell. When she walked in, her face showed a poorly concealed disappointment which she explained one heart-to-heart conversation later: she expected to see someone else. They had been detained together but ended up in different cells. Now they saw each other only during so-called walks, in a cramped concrete room with bars instead of a roof. There my cellmate smoked, fast and nervously. We were always being watched. There was always the fear that even a glance could be a trigger. She was in a double cage, one of concrete, the other of glass, breaking which was impossible not to hurt yourself.