Single tent. remains of a bonfire. Sleeping Bag. Large seed pod. In her new exhibition, Tal Shoshan exposes the place that is folded into the soul. The one that remains within us even when we are exiled from it. The objects are ephemeral and disintegrated marks of what was once a solid story. Everything is temporary. Root slip and anchor. Only Overnight parking.Shoshan forms household towels to thin, rewelds them with the addition of other types of fibers or papers, and creates a new and rich material space, like a landscape intertwined with a road map. The space becomes a place - sometimes wounded and broken, sometimes tempting with its richness and beauty – both lead to nowhere, to absence, dissolution and collapse.Tal Shoshan is holding a space within herself. She counts day by day by day. Who is going to return? Who will not return? And in this disintegration between a person and a place, maybe something else will take shape, far from the disintegrated one. Maybe like Absalom Feinberg, who was lost in the desert with a date seed in his pocket, something new will grow from the enlarged pod.