Please, at the end of the day of my son, ... / 2015 / pastel, colored pencil

The food which is equal with life of somebody. The shirt which is equal with life of somebody. A nightmare of the compensation that survived today. Gunpowder-filled beer to suppress my heart. My identity is followed by belonging to the armed forces. However, I don't have anymore a returning home. On that day, mom sold me to the armed forces. A half year later from the day, I shot mom. Therefore, I don't have anymore a returning home.