It was a winter night, the snow was sparkling. We were in the fields with the Siberian man and a group of others. He took a handful of snow to access the soil, and we all descended. There were seeds nested in the blackness around us. Softly glimmering, like the stars above. We were in … Continue reading Fifty-Four
In a wintry forest, in the night, the trees were dancing. Their black bodies stirred in the wind, a frozen flow of shadows against the white. I looked up at the light above. Couldn't tell whether it was the moon or a lamppost. My face was slowly covered with snowflakes ready to melt. I could … Continue reading Fifty-Three
There were colourful fish of all shapes floating in the night. They started to pour in one direction, as if carried by a powerful air current. As I followed them, the darkness gently dissipated. We were in a forest, I saw birch trees gliding by. Then I noticed that there was a river below, wild … Continue reading Fifty-Two
It was almost night. At the edge of the forest, I saw a woman dressed in heavy fabric. On top of her head, there was something embellished with pearls, stones and gold. She was climbing a hill. A vast landscape below. Then, like a drawing on the sky, electric lines. She looked at me as if to check whether I noticed.
I saw locks of hair attached to a line, blowing in the wind, like clothes to dry. There was also hair lying around on the floor in my mother's kitchen, and outside, all over the yard, half-covered by sand. Suddenly, they became butterflies and flew towards the cemetery where my father is buried. I wished … Continue reading Fifty
At the seaside, I saw a horse turning around and around. Another one joined in and started to rotate the opposite way around the first one. Then came another and another, each girdled the previous one, always contrariwise. They all turned golden, then more and more translucent until only their outlines remained. In the end, … Continue reading Forty-Nine
I was sitting cross-legged in the sand in the desert, my breath circulating around my body like golden strings. There was a big storm coming, and I was worried. But the Siberian man came and sat down behind me, with his back touching mine. Our breaths joined, golden threads brushing our skin. "That is not … Continue reading Forty-Eight
The sky was a sea, and there were fish flying above me. And a golden liquid thread was drawing bees into the air. I could feel the wind on my skin, sometimes warm, sometimes cool, gently pulsating. And I heard the Siberian man say: "People can be so unconscious, so diffused and diluted, they expand … Continue reading Forty-Seven
I dreamt that a boy and a girl - maybe twelve or so - fell into a parallel universe very much like my mother's garden in the summer: fruit trees, vegetables and flowers everywhere. And in their fall, they crushed a bird. Here, birds were a conscious species who could take the form of bird-men: … Continue reading Forty-Six
I was in cave or a small shrine with a group of chanting Buddhist monks. They were sitting in a circle, with me in the centre. Some threads were spiralling from me to them, and each monk held onto one of them as they gently circled clockwise around me. Then they lit the threads, which … Continue reading Forty-Five
