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There is no reason for you to be here, to be you. But perhaps what is left in the wake of reason is love — the matter, the substance of us that over and over outweighs the antimatter of chance to make life tremble with aliveness.
A lonely wanderer walks across a desolate, flat, and dark expanse of ground towards a solitary, abstract tree. The tree is completely bare except for an abundance of small, heart-shaped balloons in varying shades of red and white, some transparent, which form the shape of a large heart as they float above the tree, tethered by thin strings. The scene is set against a backdrop of rolling sand dunes in light beige, under a vast blue sky with scattered sparse, fluffy white clouds. The man is seen from behind, wearing a long, dark coat.