Laying restless in mud and dirt, in dark rot, rooted, moving with the first threads of light for a few days, essence was tasted a longing to sprout again like spring to rest in soft petals to let time, space, and dreams cross-pollinate and breed what is and what if…

    (image)   (text) This is a land where only wild birds live. I strongly imagine you doing something big; the land holds itself. Maybe you should ask nature what she thinks about an image with your body? We have to invent a new language to communicate with other…