© Marje Taska
Nine squares with figures rest on the floor. Adding the rows (or the diagonals) the result is always 15, for fifteen years in captivity. I think of graves or barbed wire enclosed, bricked over windows. Claustrophoby smothers me. However you count, the sentence is the same. It is thought itself that is imprisoned withion those squares and figures. You try to reckon your way out, but it does not work. It is a captivity that refers not just to that camp in Siberia, but human life itself. We are stuck between heaven and earth and we cannot ever be free.
Jean Bolinder: Testimony