Did you know what grows out of deadwood?
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A knowledge we share i write and stare the paper is not going to give me that answer, is it? pourtant, its made of them, those who know
SOLASTALGIA homesick at home this whole place screams of it maybe a whole generation maybe more et pourtant, we abolished capitalism today right there, at the fire light waiting to cross on our bikes to see the next squat that had been evicted by the police. done.
âwait, what?â they scream through the paper veil bark on bark on bark layered thin
âno time for sapplings and snaps!â oh, i see! we didnât wait to meet you, actually. we never even asked, actually. ok, i see: how again, do we grow like a tree?
(et pourtant means yet, nevertheless in french)
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I sent this off last week, on the thinnest night of the year, realising earlier that itâs always been one of my favourite folklores/rituals/traditions, when the dead and the spirits, human and non-human, feel closer. Something feels lighter, like that slither of an opening in the sunset sky, even though itâs the time where everything gets darker simultaneously. Iâve been thinking a lot about dying recently, out of personal interest, out of professional interest, out of acknowledgement of how much death there is in the world right now and out of seeing and feeling how the natural world around is letting go, shedding, almost clearing out. I wanna do that too, grow some new mushroom-skin on that snag-cell.
Maybe you haved guessed who was talking to me/us, so i can reveal what got me there. I am reading âThe Snag. A Mother, A Forest and Wild Griefâ at the moment, by Tessa McWatt
@snagsforlife and itâs been inspiring and slowly growing on me, like when you sink into moss. I just wanna leave you with two quotes:
LINK IN BIO to read how some obstacles in life just canât be âburiedâ
No conclusions, just veilings and using this sneaky platform to lure you to where I sometimes share more of those circular words on spiralling tree spines and erupting volcanos đ