Testimony of the Carved Figure, at the British Museum, Bloomsbury, London
I was born in a forest I have never seen. The wood that became my body was cut from a tree that grew on the banks of a river whose name I know only from the labels the curators have attached to my case. They call it the Sepik. I call it the mother I cannot remember. The tree was felled by hands whose names are lost, shaped by tools whose edges are dulled, consecrated by prayers whose words are...
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