The Great Sleep is a series of 13 narrative audio mixes that will be aired on Internet Public Radio every first Thursday of the month from December 2019 to December 2020. For each episode, a musician and a visual artist from the Global URL Nation collaborate to develop the story with audiovisual material - a 1h mix and a visual cover, which then serve as a base for written text. Each month, we will post a new chapter meant to be heard, seen and read.

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E00 - Prologue

We tried to resist the colonising power of our own creation. We tried… We tried but it was not enough. Everything started to fade away. And after a last chaotic and desperate motion to escape our fate came the Great Sleep.

But among the ruins of our own existence, a tale of harmony still rings like an echo through these bleak and silent relics. Its shadow fills with warmth and faith the hearts of those able to hear it. In the depths of memories is still beating the hope of a new awakening. Reborn from the ashes, it is said only the unconscious mass of its whole may bare the key to redemption, and that its serenity will light one’s path in darkness.

Guided in the silence of your own being, can you wake up from the Great Sleep?

E01 - The Dawning

with migu & chaggrin

This clumpy sand on which my body wakes up seems to digest me bit by bit. The fluid and crystalline rustling of the river's water shudders at the edge of my eardrums. It is then that my eyes open and my senses cling to the sensitive environment that unfolds around me.

"You have to find GUN ..."

I am attached to this sticky mud by my thoughts, my eyes are prisoners of this gray and heavy sky, puffy and indigestible sky, which spreads out infinitely in front of me. I lie down by the edge of the water, totally lost, totally sounded.

I search the most remote parts of my memory and face some diffuse shots: images of happy silhouettes, feelings of warm smiles, bursts of laughter, the welcoming feeling of an arm that embraces you and then ...

"Wake up... wake up! "

I continue to sink into the synaptic limbo of my consciousness before stumbling, losing the thread of this carousel of images that breaks when I fall into the cold space of my memory where everything fades, interrupts, stops in a new dark and unknown territory.

And there, a song... in my head.

Suddenly, I come back to myself, like when you come out panicked from a dark dream and anxiety, with a tight chest, the heart propelling in your ears bursts of blood that swell your brain and stun you.

I stand on my elbows, the body soiled by the spray of this marsh in which my members are rooted. The water of this river flows without caring, like the time flowing in the veins of life. I do not know what strength helped me to get up, despite the smothered cries of which my bones seemed to cast off, to the image of a burned skin which one takes off from your nerves, like the imagined pain that you feel, strident, when you tear off your heart.

My most primary faculties seem suddenly absorbed by everything else, by this magnetic vanishing point of a long road that appears in front of me and gulps me by its lost attraction, erasing from my head all perspectives of inverse movements. I feel hypnotized by this rectilinear and perfect length, enchanted by the horizontal line that invites me to take this journey, this landscape, beyond.

"I'm scared, I just want to leave ..."

I move my flesh a little and free my weakened eyes from this enchanting path before trying to immerse myself in my memories. I close my eyes and feel nothing. Only the dreary taste of a hollow silence envelops me and awakens me with its own breath, itself inflicted with the dissonant melody of nothingness. I try to blend into this void to get through it and suddenly discover the fuzzy reflections of a reliquary of erased memories that I thought having seen a few minutes ago. This time, nothing’s happy. No, I only feel the roar of incomprehension rising in the ruins of my languid mind. I hear echoes of memories and details that someone told me : noises, words, phrases, warnings.

" It is not too late… "

The smooth and intoxicating exaltation experienced when I wake up gives way to a sadness that is engraved on the cliffs of my memory. I only feel ghostly thoughts in which a dense fog interferes, curbing my reason, stopping briefly the clear and distant resurgence of a noise that fades to come sleeping inside me. All this emptiness stands like a chaos, I lose myself, I see myself dying.

" No ! "

I suddenly breathe, electrocuted by that voice oxidized by the time that extricates me from the abandonment. I feel myself inflicted again with life, whipped by the clear injunction of this howling that brings back to this river, to this breeze, to this road in front of me. I look at it, straight and infinite, built by the past, the present and the future. This road invites me to follow the path, I believe, of my destinies.

E02 - Through The Ruins

with Désiré & medieval_cortex

In the middle of this bleak and dusty road, my sight seems to fill with an illusory blur. The surrounding heat makes me blind and reeling. Handcuffed with fatigue, I feel knocked out. But I continue to walk towards this infinite and charming point that this long road stretches in front of me.

A desert of rocks with multiple forms spreads out, casting almost-living shadows on an arid, dry and deadly soil. I look at them sometimes, as if I was obsessed by the incredible evocations they stimulate in me. They invoke in my consciousness various fantasies and monstrous forms which overlap and mingle in a fatal and anarchic ballet. Along the way of my journey, the rocks become larger, more imposing. Their layout becomes more complex, forming more and more familiar shapes as I progress. Their shadows become characters and forms that my imagination assimilates to faces, creatures, and chimeras, surrounded by ruins of a bygone future.

My consciousness is enchanted by their presence, almost comforted, but my altered mind loses the understanding needed to distinguish if these moving silhouettes are indeed quite real or the fabrication of the same contemplation. My heart propels blood bursts in my ears, as these ghosts and specters tirelessly wobble around. I feel dazed. They are here and there, everywhere, inviting me with their slow motion to follow them somewhere, towards a future that they want to achieve with me. The ruins appear as unfinished monsters, scars of a failed scheme that could not sustain itself, as if its builders had left in haste.

I suddenly extricate myself from this spiritual bewitchment to return to reason. I realize that I have been walking for too long, alone, here, towards an unknown place which makes it seem like an inaccessible eternity.

At that moment, a feeling of loneliness seizes me. It radiates in every part of my being that is still sensitive. I feel it to the tip of my fingers: that cold that separates you from everything, that takes you out of life, that submerges you in a dense and blinding mist. To be alone is to no longer be present, it is to be out of sight, it is to no longer exist. I don't feel anything anymore, only this pervasive weakness that disunites me from the world and wipes me out.

I stay there, standing and immobile, paralyzed and blind, lost on this path where the steps of other strangers have passed to reach this vanishing point that my gaze is losing. My spine bends, my eyesight becomes vaporous, my arms soften along my asthenic body. I'm exhausted. My mind is lost. I stare at the ground.

For a long time, I remain inert, my mind suffocated by a cloudy emptiness. I'm cold. I have a feeling that the blazing sun has just given way to the night. A white light rises above me. A dark, smoking, nebulous light. I slowly raise my eyes. I no longer see anything in front of me. The evanescent point of the path has disappeared. I'm alone in the dark and the ruins I thought I saw before are now long, thin, dead trees. This sparse forest stands like sinister specters under the sick glow of the moon. The treetops outlines ghosts and appearances animated by darkness. The sound of their leafless peaks whisper secret hymns to me, forgotten languages from a frozen world, charged with unfathomable mysteries.

These whispers, these noises, fill my head with a host of chaotic echoes until I become nauseous. I put my hands on my ears so that I can no longer hear them but they are here, invading me like a contagious disease. I can't bear their shards in my head no more, so I press my palms even harder on my ears until I crush them deep enough in my skull. I cry out, stunned. I cry out in fear, alone, overwhelmed and haunted by these dark shadows screaming at me in the hollow of my bones. I panic, looking for help in this frightening darkness, but loneliness comes back to take hold of me again.

Immersed in a dreamlike state, loneliness now seems strange to me. It takes hold of me, little by little, comforting me with a dazzling embrace. But its grip becomes stronger and stronger. The comfort of yesteryear turns into deep discomfort, into strident anxiety, into paralyzing fear. It squeezes me so tightly that it wraps around me to never leave again. Once installed under my skin, it consumes all that is in me, it occupies me, it inhabits me permanently. I suffocate while it tries to erase me from the world, to make me disappear.

In this sensory dementia, I see myself fading away but I am fighting to get out. I want to find again these specters, these trees, these shadows, these ruins that made me feel like I was in the presence of someone. I try to get out of this torpor in which I am trapped, but I lack energy and this loneliness grips me even more, until it makes me fall in the imaginary space of my unconscious.

Suddenly, I come back to myself, electrocuted by a burst of life that strikes me as if a new breath had galvanized my whole person. The mist in my eyes tears apart. The ghosts in my mind dissipate and I see clearly again. I remember where I am, on this lonely road where the sun, up in the sky, shines anew with a thousand lights. My head hurts, the feeling of loneliness is still here, lodged in the hollow of my bones, but the disturbing trees of the night have disappeared. There is nothing but the road. I walk, I keep walking, losing the notion of time and space. Fatigue catches me again. Like yesterday. Or was it a week ago? Or more? How long have I walked on this road? My spine bends again, pulled by the burden of this stinging heat, by this drying exhaustion. The weight of loneliness invites me to take root, to join its dead trees and its incomplete ruins forever.

I keep putting one step ahead of the other without realizing it. My tiredness has automated my most basic movements and I only think of myself, of my survival, of this quest towards this point which continues to move away as I move forward. I’m alone, and there’s nothing but me on this road. Nothing but me.

I don't exist, I don't exist anymore. I feel like in a primitive state, because I can neither be, nor become, nor build. Without the presence of the other, what am I but a single element, living a journey without a destination, without an arrival? I feel like I can't really know myself. Alone, I am locked in my own mind and cannot access anything other than myself. My thoughts are jostling, sadness overwhelms me. I stop walking, my gaze glued to the ground. Then I hear a voice in my head. A melody on a piano. But I feel something is missing. Melancholy deepens in me, and tears come up at the edge of my eyes.

When I raise my eyes, I perceive a movement in the sky. I crease my eyelids to discover this winged traveler, this little bird which, by the flapping of its wings, gives me a new hope. I look at it, amazed, as if its presence had something mystical, incredible, impossible. I take a step forward, then another. I continue to watch it flutter, spinning above me. When it beaks, I freeze, paralyzed by the sound of this unexpected twittering. I feel happy, overjoyed and then, I explode with laughter, a laugh of uncontrollable happiness. All of sudden, the bird soars up into the sky to get away from my sight. I run to not to lose this unique connection to life.

I run, I run, I run until the road stops. The path is over.

In front of me, there is only one gigantic ruin. I look up slowly, very slowly to the top of its incomplete wall. And there, I find the bird, perched with pride on its edifying totem. I look at it with admiration, and I wonder if all of this is not the fruit of my imagination.I clap my hands, but the animal does not react. Moments later, it sings a short melody, like a cheerful and jerky hiss. I smile in an uncontrolled way, crossed by a deep feeling of well-being which erases from my mind this pernicious solitude which was digesting me little by little.

My sadness gives way to a new wind of hope. A warm feeling runs through me, from the bottom of my stomach to my heart. I feel it penetrating my veins, passing through my blood. My hands land on the stone of this abandoned creature. I touch it, I contemplate it. Its cracks and the scars in its rock remind me of how similar we are : both of us standing on this earth, but so vulnerable to the environment surrounding us.

I suddenly feel linked to this solid sculpture and my hands continue to slide on its rough and grainy surface. It emanates a strange magnetism which ties me intimately to it. Like loneliness, this ruin attracts me without being able to retreat. My whole body is projected into its material. I feel myself becoming a new piece of its shape, a new crack in its visible contours. I sink into it fully. My conscience seems completely lucid, but I have the feeling that all is once again a dream that I tell myself, so as not to perish in this madness which disintegrates me little by little. With each blinking of my eyelashes, its sublime is transformed, as if it knew what my next desire would be. I navigate through it, floating among the plans of its multiple dimensions. I am weightless, in a form or in a state totally unknown to me.

Am I dead ? Am I in a new delirium that I do not understand ?

This world is like nothing else but I feel good about it. I feel safe here, in this self-informed matter. I feel a lot of things. I feel so strongly that these things seem to be real, although imperceptible.

I perceive :

people getting together...
hands that shake ...
decisions being  made ...
ideas being exchanged …
the essence of an intelligence …
the decorations of a city ...
lives being shared...

I float through these presences, these sensations, entranced with the various reactions they stimulate in me. It is a kind of complete serenity which, by its intensity, consumes me and disperses me everywhere. I feel like being passed through the same way I probe this mysterious entity. But this trip is suddenly interrupted as my body passes through the last wall. My face first, then my eyes, before all of my body slides through this rock, softening under my passage.

When my eyes open again, I find the road that I had left. I feel dizzy and dazed. The ruin is now behind me. I turn and look at it again, breathing heavily. A shadow is there, in front of me.

No, no, it's a silhouette.

The silhouette of a woman.

And she walks towards me….

E03 - Fragments of Time
with s1m0nc3llo & lei

I’m still dizzy when I see this human figure in front of me. As this presence approaches, I can more clearly distinguish some of her shapes, her clothes, her ornaments. It’s an old woman.

This person whispers something to me, like a whistle, like the breeze of the wind through thick foliage. I’m not sure what she’s telling me but she waves at me, her hand asking me to follow her. Then she turns and, resting on her twisted cane resembling the trunk of a grapevine, she begins to walk.

I crank up the pace and rush towards her. I walk by her side, silent, for a long minute. Above the bun of her gray hair, the bird I had seen earlier swirls up lightly. I watch it for a moment, obsessed with the fact that it's still here. Slowly, after my gaze has abandoned the bird, I look down to this old lady. Hanging from her two ears, I notice huge hooped jewels set with amethyst-colored gemstones. Their brightness is lightning under the sun, making her luminous presence almost incandescent. I blink, dazzled.

In the core of these precious stones, I see my face getting deformed. I look at myself, analyzing and judging this moving and misshapen figure. I do not recognize it. I even wonder if this reflection really represents me. Am I the one looking at this shimmering stone or am I the silhouette inside this jewel, which seeks to go out and join the world in which I think I am?

I get lost in questions, losing my balance, dissociating from the reality in which I find myself. I want to explore this reflection, I want to enter the stone, to cross its polished surface, to see who I really am.

I continue to look at myself while this woman walks silently on a path that seems to arise under our feet. She wears different layers of loose clothing. I think I recognize silk, linen, even cotton. Each item of clothing is added to another, like the lines of a field seen from the sky. Her huge bun of white hair looks like a bulb of a tulip on the eve of Spring. The skin on her face is crisscrossed with deep wrinkles that give to this person the appearance of an ancient tree with thick bark. I now stare at her hands : they are studded with a thousand rings made of various stones and materials. My gaze lingers for a long time observing her long fingers and wondering about the origins of those much worn, weathered, rusty jewelries. The colors, the glares, the reflections which are outlined and eluded, make me think of shadows rising, stretching and disappearing at the base of the trees under the sun. These ornaments radiate an age-old strength, but also an uncertain future. I ask where they come from. I ask when these stones were cut, what mountain gave birth to such beautiful jewels which, visibly, over time, have lost their sublime and their brilliance.

The path becomes steep. The old lady is ahead of me, carrying on without any difficulty. The trees along the road seem to bend under her course as if to greet her. The wind blows our backs as if to give us the momentum needed to reach the summit. I feel that nature is with us... or maybe I am wrong, and it only cares for this vagabond woman.

Suddenly, the path ends and in front of us extends an incredible scenery. We overlook a valley with geomorphological formations composed of mesas and mounds. I am at first enthralled by the whole. My glance inspects the misshapen leafy masses in the foreground, before continuing further away, where I recognize the same ruins that I encountered earlier. They extend and dot a flat ground of red sandstone. From this point of view, I realize that these ruins are actually foundations : foundations of a city, a village, a town whose constructions seem to have been on hiatus. Different paths go through them towards what seems to be a rocky promontory, behind which, in the background, rises a powerful mountain range climbing up to the skies. I imagine people working here, through the sweat of their brow. I imagine fumes rising and people swarming around. I imagine bursts of laughter and tears of despair.

My gaze and my mind merge as one, enabling me to envision the whole picture, and there, as baffling as it may seem, I have the feeling to see a clear image of a place that is at once lively and vacant. I go through its different parts with a complex imaginary projection to become the explorer of this on-hiatus city. Various perceptions cross my mind: a world in danger, a world in crisis, a world drained of consciousness, a world without ideas, a world that tries to rise through dogmas, beliefs and alienations. It's scary, ominous. Everything seems to be on the verge of collapse as these ruins seek to grow, to rise, with the ground shaking and crumbling under the weight of their ascent.

Suddenly, I hear the raw and flat noise of a wooden cane banging on a stone. Startled, I turn to this old woman smiling at me with teeth shining like polished quartz.

The old woman’s hand points to a rock where I can sit. I go there and take place, while she remains standing in front of me. The bird comes to find refuge in the bun of her hair which occasionally turns into iridescent gleams.

"Do you not find all this magnificent?"

I shrug, confused.

"This world that comes and goes..."

I say nothing when the woman's face suddenly turns towards me with round eyes like marbles and she screams in her crystal clear voice:


I get petrified, acting as one with my rock, when  she laughs and begins to spin around her grapevine stick. Quicker and quicker. She mutters something while turning, raising a diffuse cloud of dust around her.

“Eternal snow! The swamps! Yes ! Yes ! Yes ! Carcasses! Snowdrops! Oh yes ! Snowdrops! And then ... the wind through the rocks! Oh yes ! And the salt water on the cliffs! It digs, it eats, it's delicious! And then everything ! The man ! Oh no, no! Not Mankind ! Not Mankind, no... "

She repeats this over and over again, spinning at breakneck speed until falling on her back, her eyes staring at the sky and dust falling like a delicate fog on her rags. I lean over, believing she is passed out... but no, she has a broad smile on her face and she says to me with a calm voice :

“It's been a long time since we had some fun together.”

"Together… ?"

"Yes, like before, remember?"

"I don’t know who you are…"

"Whoever I am, the important thing is the story you will tell about me."

I squint as she sits up straight and steady, before swivelling towards me with an amused look.

“I remember how it was before, what we used to say about lonely walkers, those scattered along the paths to the Great City... we said they were wise, we said they were great, we said they were endowed with incredible knowledge .

"What are you talking about ?"

“Talking about what you are looking for...”

"And what am I looking for ?"

"It's already in you, it's in your head ..."

"I don’t know."

"What are you looking for ?"

“I'm trying to find out where I am.”

"But ... you're nowhere, that's all."

"Hold on, what are you talking about?"

"Why do you need to know where you are?"

"To find my way.”

"Why ? Here and now, there is a whole landscape available to you. Like before. Like after.”

I'm annoyed.

"I don't understand what you're saying, it doesn’t make sense! "

"No, no, young man, you have to imagine. The place you want to reach is a wasteland tinged with lived experience. Imagination is the key, but the path may only be found by envisioning a new form of life with others. This is what leaves, worms and birds do. Assimilate their environment to evolve and grow. ”

The old lady looks at me with her big gelatinous eyes. I hear her words, I repeat them in my head. I turn my gaze towards this horizon, towards its mountains, its forests, its ruins... everything takes hold of me, making me feel oppressed and anxious, when suddenly, I hear voices in my head... I put my hands on my ears, I close my eyes, my face tightens with pain. I crack.


Tears fall down my cheeks. I realize that I am lost in the midst of a world without ties, far from all my bearings, far from the comfort in which I used to rave before ... before all that. My thoughts go deep within myself. Projected in my own mind, I try to interpret my presence on this rock, in this unknown world, and I start to wonder what I am doing here, if all this is not a way of testing myself, if I would rather not find a new start in this exotic land, reshape my beliefs in a place where everything that reassured me has finally disappeared.

The woman's hand lands on my cheek. I look up at her. Her eyes scrutinize me with intensity and she says to me with a reassuring smile:

"I have something for you."

I look at her without understanding what she is talking to me about. And that's when she takes out, from under her thick clothes, a fragment, an accretion of entangled crystals of a thousand purplish colors. She hands it to me with a smile, her teeth being reflected through the milky hues and the oily crystalline luster composing this mineral marvel. She insists by shaking her hand and I grab it, hesitantly, with my fingertips. I look at this mysterious object, and I hear something coming from its heart. I look up at the old lady, her face is still frozen with a broad smile.

"You heard it, right?"

I nod slowly.

"It's because you start to understand. If you open yourself up to your surroundings, you will hear much more than you think. Don’t forget : what we don't see exists but what exists is not necessary what we see…”

She pauses. I look back at the object carefully.

"Do you think I'm an old lady?"

Without taking my eyes off the fragment, I answer by whispering.

"Well, you look like ..."

“And yet…”

I raise my face, but there is no one left... I hear the bird in the distance, but my eyes are still blinded by the brightness of her gift. I look around, with the hope to catch a glimpse of her delicate clothing, or one of her shimmering items, only to be found by myself, alone with this fascinating piece.

E04 - The Whisperer
with Lukann & Moritz Tontsch

My eyes contemplate this odd composition. My fingers run over its surface and feel its round, sharp, colored and smoky crystals with a translucent appearance... It's cold ... It's hot .... There’s something alive inside.

I rotate it in all directions to admire it in the smallest details when I notice a dim light coming from it. Not on its surface, but from its core, from its heart. I take a closer look as the light intensifies, starting to illuminate the thousands of crystals composing it. I feel surrounded by them, as in a cave made of precious stones. I am carried away by their beauty. Even more details are now apparent, as if I could transcend scales and inhabit the void between their atomic bonds. I slowly feel the pressure in my head rising, like if it was being crushed by sediments, but at the same time I feel my body extending in all directions, like if I was floating in space, contemplating the making of matter and energy. I hear voices coming from its heart. They are elusive.

A shiver runs through me and my gaze stops, petrified by the object in my hands. I can not move anymore. I feel something vibrating in the hollow of my bones. It sounds like the strings of a muffled bass. It’s vibrant, evolving, almost musical. It’s alive.

All my attention is on this object, this sonic being seducing me. I have the feeling that its energy is getting stronger, growing, expanding until reaching some sort of pace, like one of a breathing chest. It’s elegant, calm and warm. I don’t perceive anything other than this sonic energy which seems to come from the depths of its core. Its sound goes through me. There is a lively, instinctive and acoustic communication between us. Each sound being released instantly comes to inhabit my emptiness, to confront me, trying to become one with me, instant after instant, minute after minute.

My contemplation is such that the world around me has faded away. The enchanting breath of this wonder spreads into my consciousness, like the wind rushing through the ruins of a vacant house. I can no longer take my eyes off this mineral fragment.

I feel like it wants to initiate a conversation with me. It’s strange. The object speaks to me but I don't understand what it says. It is an otherworldly language, far from all known meanings. Another word, another sentence, a last whisper and there...


My gaze leaves the object, my head raises and I observe in front of me. The wind whistles in the distance. I can see a mist of dust rising at the bottom of the valley that I had observed earlier when this old woman was still with me.

I remember that I am alone and lost but I no longer feel afraid. I feel inhabited by a new and boundless vitality that seems to come straight from the object that I hold in my hands.

Along its edges, the object sparkles several times. It tells me something. I get up and, guided by its bright indications, I instinctively take the road again.

I'm leaving the hill. My hands carry in my palms this figure with infinite contours. It shows me a path to follow, sometimes lighting up on the right, sometimes on the left. I follow its gestures with a blind obedience. We enter a thick forest. Its depth seems to me full of wonders in which I would have liked to immerse myself. In a short moment of consciousness, I realize that I am no longer in control and that my steps are directed by the object. My hands can no longer detach from its surface. I am bound to it.

The rain begins to fall. The object takes me forward, following its commandments although my mind is still completely mine. We share a connection, a sort of biological adaptation, a symbiosis in which I am fully aware of the actions and gestures actuated by my host.

After a long walk in the rain, a storm starts to rumble over us. The enchanting object stops by a huge leafy tree, sheltering me from the elements. And there, slowly, I feel my consciousness regaining control over my whole body as the object darkens gradually, until it turns completely black. An ivory black of infinite depth. Suddenly, a powerful light burst. It’s dazzling, blinding, discharging a halo of light spreading in a fraction of second through the whole forest. The intensity of this flash is so powerful that I get completely dizzy.

I feel myself wobble. As everything seems to blur around me, I feel the object getting hotter at my fingertips. My conscience is still numbed by the extreme light that had just burst the second before.

I feel invaded by a sweet intoxication. An exalted vertigo makes my head spin, and gently, I feel floating around me, like a soft and warm garment, a nonchalant aura, which comes to wrap itself around me like a second skin. My eyes close and I feel totally protected, belonging to a whole, a mere component of the forest around me. I feel possessed by a natural force, like a new sap coming to travel through my veins.

When I open my eyes, the trees in front of me seem bright, cottony, soft. I feel out of reach. After each blinking of my eyelids, the decor changes. The sooty trees now look like phosphorescent creatures releasing sporadic dust, like microscopic fireflies spinning in the darkness of the forest. The heat at my fingertips rises from my wrists to my shoulders.

I blink.

Now the tree trunks dance with each other in a haunting slowness. I have the weird feeling the object starts deforming in my hand. I feel its pulses getting stronger, its shape getting more loose. Its aura is tightening around me. I hear notes from a piano.

I blink.

My whole body is warm, my eyes discern the same forest, but it is motionless. The contours of its branches are vague, as if I was drunk. I try to move my hand in order to split the air to catch a breath, but I can't. I only feel extremely good. I feel I’m a part of a strange and reassuring force. Could it be this object which continues to give me all these gracious and benevolent emotions ?

I feel myself falling asleep gently, plunged into a dream that is not so different from what I was experiencing seconds earlier. I could no longer tell the difference between real or subconscious, between my own thoughts and the charming sounds traveling through my body.

When I open my eyes again, it's raining on my face. I try to wipe it with my hand when I feel a strange shape on the right half of my face. I sit up, the object is no longer in my hands. I feel it, stuck to my skin, like a mask going from a quarter of my jaw to the top of my ear. Like a helmet, like a bark, like an outgrowth that has taken the right side of my face for compost.

I panic. I try to pull it off, first gently then more strongly, but every attempt feels like my soul is coming with it. I hear bright and crystal clear noises at the bottom of my eardrums, like the rain but stronger. The sound of my heartbeat echoes through my whole body. I could not help touching half of my face, embodied by this misshapen and living object. I realize I'm still myself, just different. I'm no longer panicked, nor surprised, but I'm curious to understand what it wants from me.

My feet start to move on their own, the object has taken control again. I get up and I let myself be guided. Everything feels like being perceived a hundredfold. The noises, the smells, the textures… I feel like being part of this nature we are going through. I belong to this forest. I am part of its ecosystem. I understand its complex and dynamic balance, its invisible presence. I am myself a spirit. I feel bound to everything. I am a clean energy, nourished by external sensory excitations. My ideas are spontaneous, occupying the interior and exterior space.

I continue to walk around, leaving this thick forest behind me. My perception of time is confused. I don’t know anymore if I am an age-old tree or a short-lived water droplet. The fragment is still with me, talking to me, wrapped around half my face. I understand it doesn’t want to harm me. I feel encouraged, as if its sounds triggered a whole new mindset, as if it helped me assert my new condition.

The more I walk and the more the object moves around my skin. It goes from my right face to my right arm, through my chest, to my left leg... The more I walk and the more I feel we are interacting, my body and my mind answering its solicitations with other ones. I listen closely to what it says : every sound it makes resonate with my other senses. I feel the slightest movement of leaves, the sap in the trees, the worms in the soil and the vibration of small stones under my feet…

As I let myself drift away in this comfortable state, I walk for hours, or maybe days. I do not feel the need to stop, as if I could feed from the elements around me.

At some point, the sounds emitted by the fragment start to change. They get troubling, unsettling. I feel the fragment quickly peeling off my body, as if it was scared. It becomes solid again, back to its initial shape, and falls down. We are two again, but my perception is still heightened. I feel reborn, at ease with myself and with my surroundings. I am no longer afraid. I am not alone anymore. I am part of a whole.

I pick it up and raise my head, when all of a sudden, I hear a noise, a very harsh one. I first think it comes from the misshapen fragment but it’s not. It’s a new one, close to the fragment’s voice, but different… it’s coming from the distance, from a campfire whose smoke I notice up in the sky.