All started slowly 
It got me in the middle
Didn't understand

Listening with care
in silence, recording what
seems birds just singing

It wasn't, it was more,
a kind of conversation
was taking place

I went quiet, soundless 
keeping silence, with respect
forgot about me

They were what matters
at that exact moment me, 
my voice was voiceless.

Silences, pauses and conversations

Sounds are memories.
A song, a voice, places, home. 
Past basking futures.

On My Way To Work (I)

Same but different,
muting, shifting, listening
same me but not quite.

On My Way To Work (II)

There is always six
a green, a root, a fruit, then...
some spices, leaves, seeds.

Six Ingredients

I heard him. Couldn't.
So contagious. Alluring. 
Cried laughing with him.

Laughter

The word "culture" has seen a process in her years of existence since mid-15c. from tilling of the land, care, tend and guard, to "the sanctity of the intellect" as William Butler Yeast would put it in 1909. In this dialogue Mother Culture has gone to visit Mother Nature. Here is a recorded story of their conversation.

The dialogue (a recorded story of an encounter_2)

A composition of recordings in different street markets in Europe.

Markets Soundscape

Between The Ebb And The Flow

Wondering and wandering tending my attention to what is there and what is in between.

Imma

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