His heart ached. His breakup with his ex was not-so-great, totally not-so-great. Zoan Peski, a British man of Polish descent, seemed ageless, fluctuating between 30 and 50 years old. A man without an age. But in the last two weeks, his age had begun to show on his face with sunken cheeks, stubble, and elegant bags under his eyes. His heart hurt, and so did Zoan.

In a difficult moment, his life's passion – aviation – came to his aid. As a child, his slightly tipsy uncle took him to a small airport's runway to watch airplanes take off and land up close. That experience filled Zoan with such awe that aviation became a symbol of freedom and overcoming challenges. After that incident, his uncle was fired from the airport, but aviation didn't help him with his challenges. Watching his uncle spiral further into alcoholism, Zoan became even more convinced that he could rise above any challenge life threw at him.

One morning, looking at his unshaven face in the mirror, Zoan began making strange hand passes, as if drawing circles in the air. This exercise ended with him twirling his right index finger and clutching his forehead with his left hand: "Yes! A propeller!"

This sparked the idea of creating a giant propeller sculpture, reflecting his turmoil at that moment. Zoan started working feverishly, with the diligence of a dog scenting meat on its master's table. Days passed. In his studio, where once stood only busts of vain oligarch clients, now stood a monstrous propeller skeleton. Almost 6 meters tall, it was as grandiose as it was disconcerting. The sculpture was designed to look as if it had been consumed by flames, leaving nothing but its outline, with some blades deformed. However, two blades, despite their charred appearance, would serve as the propeller's "legs", firmly supporting the structure. Zoan wanted to show that beauty and strength could arise from destruction.

After completing the sculpture, Peski decided to go further. Thus, an eccentric auction with a single item, "A Propeller for the Ex", was born. Zoan invited all his vain clients and their friends to the auction, sure – such an auction is a costly pleasure to participate. The twist was that instead of increasing, the price would decrease. Hence, the eight-figure starting price wasn’t meant to scare people off. In theory.

In practice, when Zoan announced the starting price from the podium, no one budged. The vain yet cautious oligarchy was afraid to bid, not wanting to accidentally pay a fortune for the propeller.

A fiasco. That's the best way to describe the auction. Someone even dared to call it a "clown show" as they left. Zoan's heart ached again.

Back in the studio, the sculptor sat on a stool and silently stared at his creation. He began talking to the propeller, turning the conversation into a confession to his ex, ending in hysterics on the floor. Once his emotions subsided, Zoan lay at the base of the propeller, looking up. Suddenly, he was overcome with an unbearable lightness of being. The confusion of the past days vanished, and Zoan clearly saw what lay ahead.

He decided to keep the propeller as the centerpiece of a personal exhibition. Around the propeller, he would display personal photographs, fragments of his letters, and other items that illustrated his emotional journey. He would decorate the propeller itself with chocolate figurines depicting scenes from his past relationship.

Zoan Peski executed his vision. The installation became a manifesto of turning tragedy into art. "A Propeller for the Ex is my message to everyone going through a tough time. The hellish flames consuming you today will help you move forward tomorrow, towards a better self, a better world," Zoan said in an interview. His heart no longer ached.