By Jamie Marriage
He sits, cross-legged, in a room full of broken dolls. Hundreds of artificial faces look at him, their expressions frozen in various states of human emotion. Shards of broken porcelain sneer at him hit painted teeth exposed. Some of the more intact dolls, full figured representations with subtle cracks spread across the skin, smile impishly towards him.
As the boy sits amongst the relics of broken childhood he attempts to repair their broken bodies. Twisted limbs and warped china is pieced together with intricate detail, the pieces never fitting together perfectly but the boy tries his best to keep the figures together.
The boy winces as once again a doll falls apart in his hands. They always start to crumble as he nears the end, as he forms a connection to the delicate toys. Nevertheless he places the figures back at his side, more damaged for having been in his care.
For every doll he breaks a crack forms on his own body. Already his back is a network of blackening scars. It’s unknown as to why he continues to work, even to himself. But he will continue until he, like the dolls around him, crumbles to dust.