You could lose yourself in all this calmness. A deserted meadow, a pond, a forest. The wind ruffles the grass. At first sight there is nobody to be seen, but a few houses come into view. Some presence, hands to point out the way; travelling can be so gentle. Here and there, animals do what they can to maintain a presence and show it to the world around them. A world slumbering in black and white. Trees, powerful, hundreds of years old, persuade you to let go. They tell you that you really can live here, that it’s all right to stay. Try to identify these faces that never really show themselves completely, because their eyes are looking elsewhere. Bodies bent over as though seeking a way to vanish into the soil.
Where the lie of the land and its curving hillsides form a landscape that is discrete and mellow, yet sometimes wild. It is on this land, riddled with peaceful streams and punctuated by ponds, heaths and peat bogs, that the last chapter of a long life together comes to a close.
Reconciling memory and passing time is like putting together a puzzle. It is up to us to work out the boundaries between past and present. Come to terms with the present. Learn to live with it. Feel good with it. Become oneself. Leave, then return, now and always.
Reconciling memory and passing time is like putting together a puzzle. It is up to us to work out the boundaries between past and present. Come to terms with the present. Learn to live with it. Feel good with it. Become oneself. Leave, then return, now and always.