In ‘Wrinkled reverie, stuck wintersweet dreams’ Xiner evokes internalized memories of home. Beds are particularly private yet public items of fantasy as they hold the imprint of bodies and dreams. Memories are like petri dishes hidden under the sheets and individuals are being cultivated and brewed in the mattress grid. The wrinkles on the sheets shrouded the traces of the past, as if it were a river of memory, flowing towards the inevitable death.













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