A life time celebration of the death and birth. as a child who grew up in a conflicted city (Poso, Central Sulawesi, Indonesia, 1998-2003) and fled from one village to another, running from a bullet shot that felt near the edge of my ear. Seeing the city burning and then the village where I took refuge, I felt that many things became unimportant, except for the beautiful things that should be celebrated, life and even death.

The thing that sticks in my memory when I fled the city, was seeing someone fend off a machete with his hand. When I saw that I felt goosebumps on my hands so I could only freeze. and during that chaos luckily somehow my family was able to escape from that place.