P E T R I C H O R
Petrichor (excerpt) 2015
Video, 05:45 minutes
I remember overhearing that the sea has many voices. Is that what it is, out there? the sea, you know? can you see it? I wouldn’t be able to, but I hear the splashes and murmur of things wrapped in damp felt and thrown around. It’s like a bang on the door sometimes, but at other times it’s nothing. It sounds muted and brutal, so I’d rather stay down here. Though there’s cracks on either sides. See them? Maybe I could slide through, no? I don’t know, I think I’d like to stay exactly where I am. it’s new and it’s also been 30 maybe 60 years since I got here. It’s rather confusing, I think it keeps stretching and compressing around me. Here, you can touch it. it’s quite soft and pink but you stretch it a lot and it goes white and slightly shimmery. I think what happened, but that’s only hypothetical so don’t take my word for it- Is that at some point the cosmos and all the oceans too probably, they stopped in one place. Then, this stone -it was so much bigger than me, like a big glossy bauble- it shattered all things. And those dazzling debris of love and rain fused and started floating.
He talked of the soundless wailing too. And he said to follow them and to descend lower. And I thought I would find a world of perpetual solitude as i went down and under. But look at this now. The poignant warmth and transient moon embracing the sleepy tulip trees... I think if you really come close to the crack you might see it, no? try, arch your spine, go down on your knees, let your hair down so it touches the ground. So it hides your cheeks.
I kept going down and yes, on the way there were two /maybe three times where my jaw would hurt with anxiety, as if my teeth wanted to crash inside my mouth and turn into bits of shredded plaster.
They were those harrowing, yellow moments.
The scent got to me as I was halfway down and the dampness of the moss getting closer made the air around me taste like sage and lilac.
And I knew it was probably going to be a sunless world but i didn’t care much because I could see that -much lower below me- the dew on the mallows was so bright anyways that it wouldn’t really matter, don’t you think?
So as I got lower it felt like I was brushing past laughters and feathers- I’d swear they might have been those ducks, you know the ones with the red masks? Anyways, Nature hasn’t been kind to them, they look horrible but kind of funny.
Then I understood I was getting much, much closer -when I heard the songs vibrating on the leaves, and I could hear the two small dogs barking of impatience at the door (because they knew she was coming back from the market) Then the taste of sage got stronger. It felt like that anyways. it was just more solid.
The wave hit the back of my throat and broke into white, eyeless horses.
And the froth and geraniums streamed down my face, relentlessly.