Farewell

photo by me, Helen Vechurko

When on the summer day you press your ear to the beach sand and slow your breath, you start distinguishing tiny signs of the underground life, like there is a hidden civilization underneath. In my theory, these are lost and forgot objects and stories. When you listen to it for a while, you blend with the sound. The wind is your breath, the sand is your skin, and the wash is your heartbeat. Sometimes you can catch patches of dialogues in an unknown language. Nature is the…