Time is a curious thing. Our experiences shape who we become, and a single moment can forever change a person, sometimes without them even realizing what occurred. This series reflects on my memories growing up in an isolated house through the use of an egg. Eggs have strong symbolisms with creation and life. It is most commonly a symbol in Catholicism around Easter, acting as a symbol of the resurgence of life through the resurrection of Jesus. Taking this symbol of creation – in other words, possibility – and breaking it transforms it into something cold and unfamiliar, a symbolism I find myself reaching for when exploring my childhood memories. The kitchen table was set every single day: clean tablecloth, clean placemats, a centerpiece of flowers. However, the table was not eaten at. We stopped eating together as a household while I was very young. In an attempt to change this, I taught myself how to cook, with the first try being eggs, however nothing changed. This series takes an egg and turns it from something delicate and beautiful into something broken and disgusting. It illustrates how easy it is to destroy rather than repair.