The legacy of a friend's deceased mother are her clothes, which I cut into strips. The joined strips all together make a cord length of at least 300 m.
Starting from the dump of the village Arad I put this cord on the earth up to a solitary standing tree. Into the tree I „weave“ a net into which I close myself in. Through a small hole, I pull the cord inside over the period of three hours and wrap it into a ball. When the cord gets stuck on stones or the thorny desert plants, the rare visitors must free it so that I can continue to wind. With the finished ball I leave the net over the hole, by enlarging it with my hands so that I can slip through.

The life of a person has come to an end. Can her clothes transfer anything that was important to her in life? A woman from a better home who died in poverty.
How do we know where our life is going? Do we have it in our own hands?
The entrance of the Vadi, which leads into a breathtaking desert landscape is used as a dump. The tree I choose looks picturesque from a distance and turns out to be an uncomfortable place to stay. The colorful thread of life, which I roll up in my hands, stucks often. How do I signal that I need help getting ahead while I'm trapped in my "net"?
Stoical I sit through until the whole thread is wound up, no one is yet around. I have to free myself on my own. Is the end of life darkness and loneliness?