The thinking dove reflects and flies. The thinking dove is not a vulgar pigeon which smutches the scene. Nor is she a hawk controlling and taking over the scene. She never attacks. The dove observes while gliding the scene. The wind and her lightness carry her. The dove plunges into the scene but she does not attack. The dove tries to understand. Sometimes the dove brings branches to constuct. Sometimes she takes a branch to deconstruct. She is shuttling between the parties, transporting branches, messages and declarations. The dove shuttles and questions. She always questions. She questions the messages, the branches and sometimes herself.

The thinking dove provides space. Space between the ground where everyday life takes place and the sky where dreams rest. She shuttles between what we make reality and what we dream of. The dove transports thoughts; up and down, back and forth. The dove does not give answers; she questions. Questions that provoke answers, reflections and re-thinking. But the dove does not give the answers herself.

The thinking dove risks being crashed by reality but she is never crashed. The thinking dove reflects and flies.