What becomes of the soldier when the wars are over? War is intense, thick like oil. Regular life is thin and flammable like gasoline. And the body does not forgot a life like that; it does not let you forget. When your relatives are talking to you about house paint but your glassy eyes are six thousand miles away eyeing the edge of a palm grove. When your boyfriend or girlfriend asks why you sleep on the couch and you try to explain how exposed you feel on an open bed. The resentment of family when you slink away from every social gathering and you are too ashamed to tell them that you can feel the violence in your hands.
Print is 18x24 inches, plus a one inch white border around it for a total size of 20x26 inches.
