Curfew

 

I can hear the sound of mangoes falling from trees, like rocks shattering against concrete. Geckoes, frogs, crickets and birds chirp, whistle and whine 360 degree through the walls from the peripheries, where I can’t reach with my eyes. Dogs are barking the night sky. It is time for a night curfew, l try to write in my room. The house is filled with thoughts. The fan moves in an endless pendulum that rotates the whirring sound night and day, blowing a little wind on my bare skin. All these papers piled around me, full of my handwriting. In my imagination, I can see the content of them manifesting as moving bodies. I am facing a new challenge to communicate the work out, doing it online, being part of a virtual experience. And then questions, which I am interested in the creation process, occur to me. What about the direct intersubjective experience between the performer and the viewer? How can we trigger kinesthetic experiences, emotions, sensations and imagination reciprocally into the space, where they overlap, what we call connection? How am I dealing with the “in and out” -relationship in this specific moment? How does it impact our physicality, if we don’t break from the cocoon? The whole process of creation in these circumstances makes me think of our evolution and where we are going. A metamorphosis is taking a new direction. The wings are made from electromagnetic radiation and boredom is filled with online saturated images, each experience takes approximately a minute and Google teaches us about empathy, only having to type it. I contemplate on the ability to transform the form. I move at a very slow pace, attentively, in the presence, idling with dignity, aware of every step, softly and fierceless, gracefully, like a lion I could imagine moving.

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