Dozens of metal springs, a delicate porcelain cup handle, a strangely shaped piece of corrugated iron and an almost undamaged glass bottle — so far the last finds. The hole in the garden is now so deeply dug that the children can barely look over the edge. A discussion ensues about the origin of things and why they found their way into the earth right here. Detached from their original purpose, finds are free for associations and stories about time. In the end, each child drops a personal item into the hole before filling it again.

This story accompanies the viewer into a frenzy of light and reflections, desolations and overgrowth in partly deserted places, some barely still in use. The photographs were taken over the last ten years while travelling to places of my origin. Searching for home, you might think, but I rearrange the pictures. Something is added, other things are taken away, similar to a place that — left to itself and reclaimed by nature — is in constant change.

I imagine how, in the distant future, somebody will find something among the bushes and begin to ponder what purpose that object might once have served for civilization.