The reality of our garden is that the main wildlife is slugs and snails. The original idea was a work by Matisse, one of his paper-cuts in which the snail-shell is made up of several pieces of paper arranged in a spiral, but I moved away from that because I had a single piece of fabric which seemed ideal.
Brexit and lockdown have robbed us for a time and a lifetime of the freedom to visit France as European citizens. Our only hope, remote as it was then and more remote now, is to do so one day as aliens. The text is therefore an expression of anger and bitter sadness.