The trio of Andreas and Johan Berthling and Tomas Hallousten (sweden)
Beetles rattled and whispered encrypted truths while hovering over the garden paths of the doctor’s mansion. Specimen found on the journey that don’t fit the theory haunts you, but be calm, we will quietly discuss them later. Impressions found in corallic limestone; you have rocks large as fists with you in the luggage, fine we will examine them tonight in the umbrageous light on the porch. You have rowan-tree here, he said. Old thyme, medicinal herbs, minfoil, a scrubby bush of some kind. Yes… was there anything curious about that? Was it criticism that the old friend uttered? Certainly, he was more incalculable than ever; I also read in the local paper about his infamous outbursts after he came home from his journey, but I must not think about it too much.
The temperature dropped. Night spiders and dragonflies flew in from the pond, in over the gates and through the iron fence. Spirals of cobweb was caught in the woodwork as we sat on the porch after our walk in the garden. Anomalies, tiny crooked bone pipes, notes cut out of malajic travel journals and pieces of wood, that to me at least seemed insignificant and not quite relevant to the subject; all this was presented on the table cloth under flickering kerosene light that somtimes widened our world and invited plants and moths to our conversations, sometimes shrunk it to a world of shadows with room just for the two of us. It was a strange collection of objects. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a feeling that everything was possible; the evolution had proceeded in radically different directions on various places on Earth; the world was open, it could bring forth every living being and object imaginable. From afar, the noise of thunder could be heard, and shivering I was reminded of that in noise every sound is present even if one can’t hear them, as every conceivable form thrive in chaos during a inhumanly absurd time scale.
aspire
roottattoo
spongechorus
bellmountain
radiolaria
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