She comes down slowly. She swings and floats through the early morning mist that wraps the beechwood. She touches the first leaf, then down straight, through and through, getting stuck, weighting down. Branches and blue fruits, ants and cuckoo’s nests raise around it. First crackling, many and heavy, then thin and few and silent. As she slithers through the first sun rays, thousands and thousands of ears, noses and eyes, ears, noses and eyes, their amygdala enslaves them for the silver beast that joins them mighty. She stops on the ground. From her body, a thin silver rope begins to move again, upwards. This time it twists, it shakes, animated by the unpredictable unknown. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight, the forest is paralysed. Fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight, the forest is paralysed. The rope disappears above the beeches. Her two feet stand in a red circle, she just sprayed on the grass. She pulls out a notebook from her chest pocket and draws a point on its last page. And then she moves. And so she does. The sun and the moon spin between her feet and her head faster and faster, spinning as fast as a hoola-hoop, spinning as fast as a spinning top, as fast as a million flickering lightnings yellow and blue, yellow and blue, over and over and over, it’s so dark and it’s so bright stroboscopically and her steps keep sucking the grass up in front of her and sometimes next to her, the shadow of a house blips into existence, sometimes it appears a person with a very, very frightened look, and sometimes it’s a person that looks like the other person before but it’s eating a banana with a fork and it disappears while turning his head slowly towards her, and at the same time appears a dog urinating on the statue of a third person that looks like the first two persons but it’s all colourful and masculine and holds a marble banana like a sword, and she keeps walking through this discotheque that throws matter everywhere around, shadows of lookalikes repeat and repeat, repeat and repeat, they pop and burst in and out of existence in the thousands for every blink of her eyes. The landscape is a multitude of matter chaotically swirling in every direction but somehow she’s calm as if she doesn’t care, flipping through the pages of her notebook, throwing pieces of paper around, discarding mistakes and wrong sentences. And then the whirlwind of things and beings loses its energetic drive,slows down by itself and the figure is alone. She stops.

And she analyses what she sees. There’s a cave all around her. Water drops rise from some puddles on the ground and join their stalactites over the ceiling. It’s night. Her chaotic path cancelled everything else outside. Her shadow flickers against the orange background of a firelit stonewall. Her hand is touching its cold surface. She stares at the stone. Four signatures are painted with spit: left, right, above and below her five fingers. Red, orange, black, white. The thief, the pleaser, the liar and the clown.

We were born in this world out of necessity We were shown to this place to hide We became deeply involved experts of mystery And those mysteries deceived us all We suppose it had to do with our kinship Cause there’s nothing worse than “WE’s” when you’re on your own The first of us grabbed and hid away a couple of shrooms The second was licking his feet and didn’t see The third knew something was up but didn’t say a word And the fourth, well the fourth was too busy with self pity Heated up, dry and safe, what do you think you’d do? Between the world outside in anonymous chaos, roaring monsters and some, And the darkest insides of the caves you shed light through Try to find something better, give it meaning and call it true And here you have it a redundant flow of uselessness of patching this of spilling that Slapping walls painting faces spitting colours cook with faeces Naming stones that looked like problems Say their names till they turn altars Turn around play with your shadow the night is long you’re high and mellow Then something happens it doesn’t matter don’t listen to them and climb the ladder It’s just your brain it’s getting wetter, fatter a distant chatter brings you back to the fire You look inside you’re clearly higher You touch the oblivion and then retire You say its name “Consolation Desire” And the first of us turned around, walked away without shame The second crawled on the ground and fell asleep The third said “all is fine” hugged herself and shed a tear And the fourth, well the fourth was still busy with self pity And here WE are The thief, the pleaser, the liar and the clown We’re here to show you around With our overwhelmingly disturbed relationship Make sure you write that down Write that down, won’t you? It goes like this: Pa, pappa, parara pa pa pappa pappappappappa… And then one day the first of us came back with lots of gifts The second never really quit his dream The third stepped in the fire and taught us how to dance And the fourth, the fourth started to smile The thief, the pleaser, the liar and the clown We’re here to show you around With our overwhelmingly disturbed relationship Make sure you write that down We’re a creepy blend of wisdom and uncanny insanity Each one of us, a master of the unclear Enduring every season to make up reality And shouting every misery with cheer Oh, lend us an ear.

She blinks. They’re gone. The wall looks younger, fresh moss sucks and spills humidity around her leaning hand. There’s no trace of the story she just heard. No trace of those signatures. A ray of sunlight coming from the entrance of the cave on the left makes its way until her feet. She turns her head rightward, the cave looks slightly different. Against the pitch black background that leads deeper inside, two yellow eyes stare gently at her. The being breathes slowly through its bleeding nose. “I will kill them and they killed me” it says. It continues: “They’ll come again, over and over, their story will repeat, each time very different, each time a little more colourful. Each time more and more detached. Those four addicts were, are and will always feel no empathy for one another, their eyes are projected towards the inside. The drugs make them feel wholesome even though the real distance between their worlds is getting greater and greater. Damn junkies. Stuck between two opposite environments: the instinctual outside and the newly found reflective inside. Victims of their own ruminations. Hallucinated, torn. Who could blame them? Their parents didn’t know what they were doing when they met. Bad parenting. Terrible childhood. Their children had to tell each other new forms of stories to exorcise the lack of safety that their lives were based upon. (Patching this, spilling that). Suddenly their environment became more. More familiar and more hostile. None of them seems to have forgiven their parents for their lack of explanation. Junkies”. The beast goes on: “Behind their parents’ pupils laid a hole deeper than their memory. It made them look distracted, confused, incapable of properly taking care of anything or anyone besides their skin.” She repeats: “two beings with a hole deeper than their memory”. “Those four siblings were really born into this world out of necessity”, concludes the beast. She stares at it. Clueless. Her notebook in one hand, she leaves a hand shaped mark of dust on one page with the other and scribbles something like a Venn diagram, drawing four circles in two rows of two. Each circle touches the other two in one point, leaving a big blank space in the middle of the drawing. Then the beast drags itself past her and disappears. A second ray of sunlight reaches her from another entrance on her right where the wounded being was standing. Both sunrays almost reach her feet even though they originate from two opposite directions. She finds it awkward and decides to follow the second. She’s outside. She blinks in pure blinding daylight and a vast dry grassland reaches all the horizons around her. There are no clouds, no trees, no wind. “This is where their parents are going to meet at any moment”, she thinks. Everything they both wished for is here now.

She wishes a clear horizon that shows her when he walks around so that her face with anxious eyes can hesitate, assess, and smile He wishes to reach high ground to marvel at the stream below and when she’ll dive in for her bath his thirst will turn to fear She wishes the wind to blow blow strong below her nose and whisper his thousand names so she can think of him and frown He wishes his feet to fly above the yellow grass so that his path towards her dining room will hide under the sky And when you hold your breaths in angst open your eyes, panic will serve you well You feel your skin so soft and bare but not much else no, not much else And when you hold your arms and pray: “it’s not today, it’s not today I die” you feel your heart so fast, so fast, so fast but not much else She wishes a black new moon to analyze the stars and predict his next unconscious move that traps him in her crib He wishes a garden full of holes that he can dig for her so that in nights of loneliness he sleeps away his nervous cries She wishes her walls to hold hold strong against his howls and shelter her soul against his nails that scratch behind the trees He wishes a bit of courage to look inside himself as he raises both his hands up high one strikes, the other yields One hand strikes the other yields And in that moment face to face smash his head, eat her heart There is no time, you can’t escape It’s such a shame, oh what a shame Your hesitation gets the blame Eyes to eyes, guts to brains You crave for signs of deep affection but nothing stares back Nothing stares back And they both wish they had never met Both wish they had never met And nothing stares back Nothing stares back No, nothing stares back There’s nothing just yet…

…At least this is what they perceive. The anxious distance between them, beyond their horizon of events, is traumatizing those two. She writes in her notebook: “this is some severe complex PTSD”. They’re suspicious towards each other and what surrounds them. A constant fear. This is simply too pathetic. She freezes the scene. The pair are the only two vertical elements of a flat horizontal world; their hands are raised in a desperate act. Forced to look in one direction at a time, while naked to the potential eyes that observe them from all sides. The openness of their environment is the nemesis, the antagonist of their conscience. One, very familiar, intimate world against the vastness of the unknown. She knows what happened after. She adds: “There isn’t any glimpse of calm in their still action. Perhaps just an infinitesimal fraction of hope that this won’t be their last day”. She feels sorry for them although she can’t do anything besides trying to understand. She walks around their bodies, frozen in time and space. She touches his cheek with a finger and feels the tight jaw underneath the skin. She then switches to her and passes her hand over her forearm and feels the raised hair and goosebumps. Then she slips in between the two confronting figures and stares deep inside their black eyes. First her, then him, then her again, then him again. She starts to spin on her feet faster and faster so that she can see their eyes simultaneously. What were black points before begin to turn into a black circle the faster she spins. And she spins extremely fast now. There’s only a thick black circle around her. Then the circle becomes a sphere and she’s in the middle of it. She starts to perceive what lies beyond the memory of the two subjects, something like a cross-generational psychoanalysis, like the always-dying beast in the cave told her. Quite foggy at first, she begins to distinguish patterns that tend to repeat more often than others: need, expectation, disappointment, frustration, anger, fear, breakdown, apathy, disillusion, a mild satisfaction, greed and then need again. All in a loop. She spins too fast now. She falls and vomits with her eyes closed thinking that it was a stupid idea after all. When she opens them she’s overwhelmed by the spectacle that unfolds all around her. What was a homogeneous curtain of black turned to be an extremely thick pattern of tiny dots. Some closer, some way more distant. All seem to be eyes turned towards her. All are rotating in a peaceful circular movement, pushed by a strong but constant whirlwind. All are worried and confused. She picks up her notebook from the ground and begins to count them by pointing at them with the pen. Each time she touches one, she draws a mark on a page. The eye then blinks irritated, relaxes and turns white. [12345 12345 12345] And so on. 1234… Everything’s white now besides one last black dot quite far away. As she gets closer she feels only a faint breeze brushing her cheeks and begins to hear a tune. One voice, inside the dot.

Inside the dot there is a field inside the field there is a tree inside the tree there is a girl inside the girl there are two children Inside the first there is a beat inside the beat there is a scream inside the scream there is a storm inside the storm a captain sails But where does it go where does it go? I don’t know Oh, where does it go where does it go? I don’t know Well, where the wind blows where the wind blows Don’t you know? Yeah, where the wind blows where the wind blows There, it goes Inside the second there is a blade of grass that grows so vertically strong to keep the body from its fall With roots so thoroughly intertwined in deep and intricate designs And when the wind will try to rip the seed will shake and hold its grip But, where does this wind where does this wind come from? Oh, where does this wind where does it come from? It comes from far away far away, far away I don’t know Or, it comes from deep inside comes from deep inside i don’t know Inside the captain there is a compass inside the compass there is a needle inside the needle there is a magnet that makes it spin Madly spin Counterclockwise Struggling to find its pole Madly change, clockwise Desperately aiming Blind Ignorant to the fact that what attracts it won’t be found around ‘cause It lays at the bottom of the ocean Inside the seed there is a world inside the world there is a glacier inside the glacier there is a spring that spills water and feeds rivers, lakes, seas and oceans And drowns the land And it will cover everything in a blue marble perfectly round and calm As long as the wind will last Inside the wind there is a shock-wave that came to be unknowingly because you’re here right next to me

Before counting the last dot, she notes that the breeze has stopped. “Ups”, she thinks. She touches the last eye and draws the last mark on her notebook’s second page. The moment she closes the book, the eye blinks but doesn’t disappear. It grows instead, very fast, reaching enormous proportions in a fraction of a second. It wraps her with a silently deafening scream and becomes so big that she falls inside its pupil, attracted by the gravitational pull of the gigantic object. So heavy, crushing upon its own nuclear solitude without any trace of air keeping it in relative balance with the others. There are no others anymore. Each dot, each memory, counted on the presence of its neighbor to sustain its perfectly circular motion. A chain of reminiscences now completely disrupted by her straightforward and categorical analysis. She holds fast on her precious notes while free falling inside the pitch black core of the very first explicit thought. “Whomever this first memory belongs to, it must have had macroscopic implications on what came after”, she thinks. “It’s too big, it’s too intense”, she manages to write in free fall while losing pages. It’s a silent fall. No air is there to transmit sound. She starts to feel crushed by the gravitational intensity of the object. It doesn’t feel unpleasant though: more like emotional intensity. “Emotional gravity”, she labels it. And the moment she begins to think that this state could go on forever, something very small and grey appears in the distance and approaches her at a considerable speed. She blinks repeatedly to focus on it. The grey thing looks like a circle, no it’s a sphere, no it’s an irregular sphere and it’s not completely grey either. It casts shadows on its surface. It has a surface. It has lines, scratches, bulks, it’s getting bigger. It’s a stone. It’s a big stone. It’s a massive stone. Oh, it’s a planet! It’s a planet. It has an atmosphere and she’s falling through its clouds. She sees better now: continents, mountain ranges, pole caps, oceans. She falls. She falls. She begins to hear herself screaming as the air fills the vacuum. She is about to be a few kilometers away from the ground now. Turning her head backwards she notices that the eye she fell into, closed itself behind her. What was black nothingness of unknown and nearly unbearable emotional intensity, slowly begins to look like a rocky landscape under a blue sky. Her fall slows down and she knew that somehow it wouldn’t harm her. With exquisite scientific delicacy she calculates where she’s going to land and sketches it in her notebook at the bottom of the first page. She then touches the ground where she thought she would. Herons fly backwards above her head. Rocks of all dimensions and shapes lay everywhere else. Nothing else moves. And then on her left, fast, agile, zigzagging, two figures, one clearly chasing the other. She blinks, there’s no time to lose. She runs after them.

Picture yourself as you’re running through the meadow Pure terror, tachycardia and a headache Your lungs are eating air as fast as they could manage Your bare feet can almost make it on the rocks Your eyes are red, wide open, tearing You keep them focused forward Your thoughts incomprehensible Just fog There’s something roaring chasing you You feel it’s gonna eat you No don’t look back, oh no oh no, oh no, just run Run It doesn’t have a purpose it doesn’t have form It won’t have any mercy You’re gonna be its dinner you’re gonna be its lunch the moment that it touches you Your hair raise up to sweat out the fear that traps your heart Your teeth prepare their last stand You run as fast as you can and the landscape’s all blurred out You jump and fall and stand up jump and fall and stand up run! Run! And all you seek’s a tree to climb but obviously there’s none And all you seek’s a bush to hide they were here but they’re gone And suddenly your brain connects That protein kicks it in The channel to your mouth adapts Your talking skills begin And you shout: Damn Oh Damn! And you think: Why Oh Why?! It was supposed to shelter you, you knew it, oh, so well You ask yourself “what did I do wrong?” You’re filled with disappointment and sadness and grief that tear your heart in tiny little pieces You think you could be angry but that treason is too strong and there’s no time to assess anyways You choose to live today and die a little from tomorrow on because you have to understand what went wrong What did you do wrong? What went wrong? What did you do wrong? And then you see a wall ahead a giant wall of stones and right and left there’s no way out The chances of you making it are getting thinner now Whatever chases you is getting close You stumble on a rock that moves you almost lose your balance You see it rolling alongside your steps Then someone comes and fills your head Authoritarian voice You lend your body to her words that say: Stop Pick it up Turn around Aim Close one eye Hold your breath Take the chance Throw

It worked. I’m not afraid anymore. Who are you? What’s your name? How did you know? What do you say? I don’t understand. I don’t understand. What’s in your hands? What did you write? I don’t understand. Is it all there? What is all? Do you know what you wrote? No, stop asking questions, I don’t understand. I am asking you, if you please. Why are you smiling? What’s in the books? No, I don’t feel better, Why should I thank you? What’s in the books? How did you know? You wrote down my story? But I’m still alive! How do you know? Stop smiling! Did you write down every story? I don’t understand. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. I don’t understand what you’re saying! Stop playing with me! Why are you smiling? Just give me that book, won’t you? Let me see. So you wrote down my story a long time ago You made up your own mind So analytical, so categorical perpendicular to my version So tell me: Was it ever wise to run? Was it ever wise to wait? Was it ever wise to climb upon the tree and throw stones at your neighbour? Was it ever wise to miss a chance? Was it ever wise to grief? Was it ever wise to stroll around the woods and scavenge through the mud to look for food Was it ever wise to suspect? Was it ever wise to fall apart? Was it ever wise to make out in the field that shone so red under the troubled sky? Was it ever wise to trap the unknown? Was it ever wise to hold onto it? Was it ever wise to make it yours And label it with a question mark? I say, Jane, did you read them all? All these books you leave behind when you move around I see you scribbling even now that I’m talking to you I hear you scribbling when I sleep, when I’m eating, when I cry I see you scribbling all the time When I’m with my friends, when I struggle to find water I hear that scratching sound of metal that violates the white paper You scribbled even now when everyone else left So, tell me how to behave Like the boy in your cage Am I part of your game? All this noise is a shame Where’s the start of the maze? Are the rules to be played by? Did you read them all? Did you read them all? Where’s the end of the maze? Where’s the start of the game? Tell me how to behave Is the purpose ok? Am I part of your game? Tell me how to behave Is the purpose ok? Have my questions a place? Like my mothers who left Like my fathers too ashamed Like my sisters who fight Like my brothers who rot in their jail Like my children who cry Like my friends who live by all the mess and goodbyes Can you please clarify? So tell me page after page: All the thoughts to be made All the worlds to be chained All the loves to be craved for And then page after page All the lies and mistakes All the lands up in flames All the lost and their names All the gods to be prayed And then written on the last page: “Oh, the lights you see fading All the joys will be brave” Oh, the lights you see fading All the joys will be brave I say, Jane Did you read them all? Tell me how to behave Like the boy in your cage Am I part of your game? All this noise is a shame Where’s the start of the maze? Are the rules to be played by? Oh, the lights you see fading Did you read them all, Jane? Have my questions a place? Is the purpose ok? Did you read them all?