post-artist's statement;

...for no reason
[insert:]
the left wrist only, of course, as the right is tattooed and precious



also:

"your last thought was of your mother. the way you used to help her hang out the washing, in the afternoon sun. you would hand her pegs, and she would tell you to put on a hat. she would be wearing her pale blue cotton hat and her black wayfarer sunglasses. you would tell her about your day at school, and how nobody there notices or cares for you. how you must walk around the yard at lunchtime and find somewhere for you and your imagination to eat lunch. she would say, don't worry honey, they don't matter. your mummy loves you. your slow sister loves you. your stepbrothers probably love you too. your stepdad loves you, even though he hits you sometimes if you don't go to sleep at night and stay up too late reading. your dad loves you, even though he is thousands of kilometres away. and your sisters over east love you. but your mummy loves you, i can tell you that first hand.
you know that if he could he would come down from the clouds and bring you toast. and drive you around in his beaten up car and feed you cigarettes and scotch. and you would pass out in his car next to him. and it would be okay, and your heart would still beat beat beat beat beat without realizing this whole time his didn't. but that doesn't matter. he would say, they don't matter. i love you. i care about you. but you will have to go home and push on, starfish. i can't keep you here in my car forever, watching the city lights glowdeathpollution from above. you must zigzag your way back down, slowly, but surely. i'll see you sometime later.
your last thought was of your mother, and the way you used to help her hang out the washing. you would hand her pegs, and tell her about your day at school. and she would say, they don't matter. i love you. i love you. i love you."