Body Imprints sculptures. Ina Damyanova

We are alone. We come into contact with hundreds of people and expect one of them to fit into the dent of that imperfect, most beautiful part of us, somewhere close to our heart, and to complete our imperfect, human Self.
We hope and, without even acknowledging our mortality, we fill our short life with even shorter moments, running from our own self, from Love, turning it into a weakness.


Recycled paper, mixed technique.