TWO SUNS

One sun remained at home, while another shines upon me here, in forced immigration. They are connected by birds that bridge my past and present. Back home, I often walked in the park—it was my special ritual: to start the morning with a walk, regardless of the weather or circumstances. Now, far from home, I repeat this ritual. The local park becomes my personal portal to the past, as this tradition has traveled with me. In this park, I meet many Ukrainians, and for a moment, it feels as if everything is as it once was. I feed the birds, who hold the fragments of my life together.

At times, it seems that these very birds are the invisible threads weaving my life, connecting its torn pieces. They become symbols of stability amid change and chaos. That is why I find inspiration in them when searching for answers to the questions that arise in this new life.

In many cultures, ravens have long been attributed with mystical significance. They are seen as keepers of secrets, symbols of the soul and transformation. They seem to unite the celestial and the earthly, the past and the present. That is why they appear in my project, embodying the journey of my soul between past and present, in dreams and in reality—just as I travel through my imagined portal. These journeys save and heal me.

Each such journey is a step toward myself, toward understanding who I am now. I, too, feel like a bird, for whom time ceases to be linear and the impossible becomes possible. I follow my own traces, left behind by my past self for my future self. I do not know where this path leads, but I trust myself and take the next step toward the future I once chose—though I have no memory of making that choice.

TWO SUNS

Video art

3:51

2025

As if in a dream, I wake up—but this time, something feels different. I don’t understand what’s happening; I feel strange, as though something is shifting in a way I cannot explain. My previous life exists only in memories, while the new one remains out of reach. I know this is the very moment of transformation, yet I have no idea what to do while lingering in this in-between state. I am learning to adapt to something I neither know nor understand, which is why my movements are uncertain, hesitant. I don’t know if I am capable of coping with it, whether I will endure it, or if I can survive this longing—so much stronger than any emotion I know how to bear.

I want to be home. I want to feel safe. But that option no longer exists. I long for the freedom to choose, yet circumstances dictate otherwise. It’s no longer “and… and…” but rather “either… or…”. I am close to understanding these new conditions, yet still far from accepting them. That is why I long to escape—to return to a past that exists only within me.

Birds have always held meaning in my life, and in this surreal reality, I transform into one—a mystical creature unbound by time. I fly backward, desperately trying to make time flow in reverse. But when I come face to face with reality, I fall. I must stand up, fall again, stand once more—fall, stand… exhausted, breathless, wounded, but unbroken. Gathering all my strength, I rise—this time, firmly.

Freedom is my birthright. No one can take it from me.