A spoon, a balloon, iron, a hammer. A utensil used to feed, a toy to celebrate, an industrial material, a heavy tool. The link between these four words is hard to grasp, yet the space that lies in between them is full of possibilities. Perhaps it talks about a place where balloons are not toys anymore. Or about the joy of feeding or being fed. It reminisces about that desolated place, where between some junk, you once found a broken spoon. It’s the memory of the light heartedness you had when you were a child. Or perhaps it’s a combination of all of these thoughts. Children, weapons, food. The space in between is yours to fill, it is yours to imagine.