I’m going to learn to sleep sitting down at stations, wake up when someone approaches, touches, breathes, looks towards me. Sleep in a flight, work in the night under a newspaper. I will not be afraid. I will be a document of strength, of survival. Sleeping and waking up, walking and looking, sleeping under a tree, passersby gaze, maybe fear. Becoming the environment, giving up my comfortable bed, my isolated room, safety, quiet space for only me. Exposing myself to danger, disorder and death, but also harmony, beauty and life. There is a lot to live for, lot to see and experience, but is that to be experienced?
You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpectable, unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin. To eat you to consume you and move on to the next body.
Africa is scary. It is enormous and endless and dark. Endless in its blackness, noise, violence, liveliness and uniqueness but we like to see it as one block because we must understand within our rational frame all, even the things which don’t fit the frame in any way. We need to force all into our frame to comprehend and control and use. All that we can’t control, what can we do with it?
Ethnic sounds, drums, stomping, whipping, singing. Animal sounds: roaring. Human sounds: shooting. Nature’s sounds: the wind, eruptions, the grass, the rain.
Cacophony distilled normal, a harmony, a naming. Making order, giving advice, giving comprehension and guidance, harmony like for a choir with a conductor. Do not make a mistake. You will be punished. Who are the people who punish? Who are the people who are punished?
Coffee cantata, tsinasil signifies the sounds of whipping of Jesus. Wondrous voices made with instruments invented. Giselle is losing her mind. Think that sound.