When I was two years old, my father walked into the woods with the intention of never coming back.
For almost 20 years, my parents chose silence about his suicide attempt. And yet, I found myself drawn to the place where it happened and on the anniversary a wave of grief washed over me. When my parents finally decided to tell me, it all began to make sense.
This project started out as an investigation into the traces of a well-kept family secret. As I revisited my parents’ trauma – the places, objects and memories that I could not call my own – I also found it here, inside me. My body had always known.
This is not just a story about a suicide attempt. It is about the impossibility of secrets, about what we share when we hide. It is about pain inflicted out of love, the complexity of silence, and the inexplicable sadness of a boy.
Mum, Dad, this is your trauma. It has wrapped you up in countless colourful blankets and yet unwittingly handed over to me in a loving embrace.
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