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Many years ago, I found an egg on my way home. I waited a long time until it told me what it was meant for. Each time I move the past few years, I took it with me in all my new homes.
An egg is a home to a new life. This one fell from its nest. Losing its own home inevitable meant losing its purpose at the same time, no new life would ever come out from it.
Giving this grieving orphan a new symbolic purpose, this sculpture allows it to rest on a cushion, as at the same time it endangers its body: it might drop from it if one comes too close to take a look. Resting in precarious balance at the top of a stick of steel, it oscillates with the softest breeze, just like it might have done on the top of the tree, in its nest.