We're falling into the tunnel - the wind carries us here. The wind caressing the ocean surface, the fields, the leaves and the hair. Sometimes you can hear it, sometimes you can feel its touch. It keeps the memory by hiding the rhythms in its noise. The layers, repetitions and rhymes of the past, present and future can be separated from each other and heard.
Here this plane wakes up from a long slumber. Sound comes from the dust, from the plants painted on the walls, the birds perched on the balcony and the clouds printed on the windows. The wind that carries time and memories resonates between our palms as we hold hands.
In this timeless sanctuary, wind and dreams can avoid becoming fictions of the future and history. Just as we long for shelter, the wind needs it to escape from our care.
Yen Chun Lin and Gediminas Žygus: "Holding the blue wind with open palms" Sessions
