I know not many people like the idea of having a dead animal in their home. When I was a child I always wanted a fox scarf. I was highly aware that it was a dead fox and still I wished I had one. I wished I had this dead fox with whom I could cuddle. Life can be so paradox. I have this magpie from a woman who's grandpa had magpies in his garden and he let someone make this preparation for him and the woman did not want to keep it. And I – what should I say – I love it. And when getting reactions from others about it, I feel ashamed that I like it so much, because I can understand them, but still I want to keep it. Even though I know it is a dead bird, I don't see death in it when I look at it at all. What is death anyway.