Letter to Eva

When I look at you, I can't believe that you are a part of me, you came out from me. Now I can't imagine life without you. Sometimes I'm afraid to sleep – I do, afraid to lose time that I could spend with you. When we play, when we laugh – this is the purest laughter of my life. I dream that we will love each other all our lives, that we will be near and for each other. I can't imagine life without you. I'm afraid to think about war because it can take you from me and me from you, that's why we run… sorry we don't have a home, sorry I'm sheltering you, but I won't give you into the hands of war, I'll protect you until my last breath, to the last drop of blood… always… I am grateful to my mother for giving birth to me. I am grateful to my grandmother that she gave birth to my mother, who gave birth to me so that we could meet. I dream of giving only love, my beloved daughter… I'm sorry for the fact that your mother is an immigrant, a displaced, a refugee. I'm sorry that now you also live between borders. Sorry for this feeling of being not there, and not here either…
But together we are united, and we will cope with the embrace of war. I hope it won't crush us, and we will find our home… together.

I love you, my most precious woman, my daughter. I love you my most valuable woman, my mother. I love you, my most valuable woman, grandmother."

A Letter to Eva. Written on the island-former fortress of Suomenlinna in the heart of Helsinki, in the spring of 2023 during the opening of the HIAP [Helsinki International Art Program] open studios, which became another temporary shelter from September 2022 to September 2023 for Maria and Eva after the full-scale russian invasion in Ukraine.