Stay tuning, walk around, lie down, sit,
step into the forest floor or head on the wood.
Last summer, during a nighttime forest research in Salzburg, Austria, I encountered an unforeseen storm. The storm plunged me into chaos, and the physical loss of control forced my senses to become more “sensitive.” Instinctively, I tried to find an escape route through active observation. The nocturnal forest turned the familiar into the unfamiliar; relationships and entanglements that are usually neglected spoke out themselves in a radical, unfamiliar way. I was overwhelmed, and I had to confront it. I seemed to lose control over my body. Dense rain formed towering pillars, fragmenting the space into sharp elements. Individual voices were amplified, becoming visible and unavoidable.
My dirty bodies,
intertwined with the mud of trees,
I fell into the river.
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process of making