Stickers by

Iain Ball, Maya Ben David, Monia Ben Hamouda, Vitaly Bezpalov, Bob Bicknell-Knight, Michael Boelt Fischer, Jakub Choma, Nicole Colombo, Francisco Cordero-Oceguera, Adam Cruces, Barbora Fastrová, Dorota Gawęda and Eglė Kulbokaitė, Uffe Isolotto, Ittah Yoda, Dani Jakob, Botond Keresztesi, Alice Khalilova, Nile Koetting, Michele Gabriele, Lucia Leuci, Marian Luft, Maja Malou Lyse, Alejandra Muñoz, Carlos Noronha Feio, Rolf Nowotny, Jaakko Pallasvuo, Nuno Patrício, Peggy Pehl, Nicolas Pelzer, Frederick Powell, Giulia Ratti, Giulio Scalisi, Namsal Siedlecki, Nanna Starck, Ronny Szillo, Patrick Tuttofuoco, Reis Valdrez, Maurizio Vicerè, Bruno Zhu

Every morning she would wake up at dawn and cross the city, lingering every time she met a seedling grown in the walls crawlspaces. She would caress the leaves, unable to say anything because of the strong emotion, the air stuck in her throat.
Each time it was a total shock, but that time was unforgettable, forever stuck in her mind.

She stole the adhesive stickers from her mother's purse, Esselunga’s collection points (every 25 euros of shopping, a stamp; 100 stamps for a microwave oven with incorporated grill). She twisted the stickers around the stems, rubbing them between the forefinger and the thumb. She stuck them accurately onto the faded petals of the city flowers. She even used a magnifying glass to do so. The operation was more complex than she expected, but she stuck with it.

She walked by the cars parked in the dark, stuck around until the smell of freshly baked bread spread in the air.

Suddenly, she ran into the parking lot, brandished the bundle of flowers weighted down by the stickers and punched the sleepy cars with her own fist. A concert of alarms, a chorus of crazy flocks.
It really stuck in somebody’s craw. She stuck around puzzled, wondering why there were all those screams.