Correspondence
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[The layering of the terrain from step to step returns to the idea that the time that once happened in this place may one day return, one day the resident of the house will again become a resident of the cave, one day moving into the dark will become the only method of communication between us, one day contact with the stone will become warm, and contact with people alien. Many steps through the layering of stones do not provide answers to the questions that haunted many steps back.
Layering envelops, tightens, and awakens awareness of the moment of the present, which strangely interweaves fragments of history, those that have no bodily memory left. Many steps as a continuation of the path beg the body to stop remembering, beg the body to merge with the layering of the stone, beg the body to stop leaving traces, beg to leave the opportunity for the body to find the boundaries of space, becoming one of those who are no longer human being rather a living being.]
[If one day you could sing a song to the cave, read prose, compose poetry - share something that would mean some kind of gathering ritual.
You would not go into the cave that day, you would build some distance between the recess and you, you would tell the place about you or about you in the place, maybe about how this place became a place for you or you became this place.]
The Void - [caves, recess, depression in a landscape]
The Voids are not similar to the body, just as the body is not like the recesses. The voids are layers of memory, the one that once possessed physicality, the one that once lost touch with generations.
[We often accept and adapt places in the context of us who once arrived from the spaces of cities. Our recesses there are like repositories of our desires, needs, illusions, and ideas about us.
Deepening in isolated places does not wait for a person and does not repel a person. They are located in the depths of the landscape, they keep a lot of history, stories about the touch of the wind and the sea, about the touch of the sea and stone, about the touch of time and sky, about how water circulates, where the sea returns in the evenings, about how once people took refuge inside, coexisted in hidden landscapes of places where now man is again on the surface of the soil - not inside.]
[There are many hours before dawn, many hours of anxiety lulls the sea body, and many hours of darkness plunge into the spaces of detachment.
The search for the outline of the body does not lead to the search for the outline of the memory of something that still has at least some familiar concrete narrative lines from the life of the one that did not happen.
On many days the stone holds the body, many days the stone frees the memory.
The highest place in the cave is equal to my height (cutoff), and the lowest place allows you to put the newborn in the architecture of this space. The water comes into contact with the stone every second, comes into touch with the body, and the body coalesces.]
