“i sat in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldnt make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and as i sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle an go black, and one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet” -the bell jar, sylvia plath
36” x 24”
charcoal and colored pencil on paper
