tiny little books placed in a garden ~
i was told about stories of trees.
they would squeeze their boots to reach the other side of the ocean. obviously i said branches, not boots. spasmodic boots, twigs i mean, sewing versions of themselves in skeins, and each time they threw to the ocean.
it was many times, over the years. so many it was forming a mount, then a mountain, and then an island, which buried whales beneath its roots. surface, i mean.
the goal was to reach the other shore, and, without a shadow of a doubt, not sink. but they sank to another land, still unknown and not mapped by any satellite.
a feat, one would say. shrewd manners, finally capable of creating a north. almost literally.
the next step would be trying to observe from a distance to understand its dimensions. but not by satellite or any digital or electronic device. lenses were lifted inside a tube, arranged on a tripod at the top of a long ship mast. which was itself a tree of floating roots and very long branches, taking care of sailing issues.
to the top of the mast, many lenses were collected from scraps, from the streets. they formed a great telescope, actually, almost a telescope, and so it was finally said: land in sight!
the next step was to lay the roots of elastic learning, to move slowly to this unnamed territory. trees assumed their web faculties, which blurred among them to exchange substrates, and together, in cooperation, turned themselves into gigantic spiders so they could reach the ship.
if the flock were larger, they might even have created ways of dispensing navigation, building with their branches and webs a long bridge that would lead to the invented land. however, it was a risky route, since certainly medium-capacity trackers would notice such intervention. therefore, they opted to cast themselves into the seas.
the tree is the ship that is the spider, made of many webs and branches, reaching high dimensions and being able to see at long distances.
a magnifying glass, you said. to bring closer.
no high precision device. no conscious calculation was made. angles and directions of the stars would guide their path, trees were determined, a whole ecosystem to be created on board.
was the goal in itself to go or arrive? or inhabit the ship?
they would not forget their boots; by then they were already part of it. many blankets were spinned with care, and they brought many fruits, which were to be harvested on dry land.
there, a new axis would be created to move from. some kind of center, branching. not centered, however, in which ways would have to be woven in the tangles, and uncovered within them.
games and playing were encouraged, all of them with clubs, crooked rings, stones or letters. nothing that was not organic would be incorporated, nor exaggeratedly processed.
only cuts, hooks, ferments and connections. balance of colors, composition of carings and memories, reunited together.
silences became sacred, an agreement of many, as well as dissonances.
no one was afraid, no one was ground. all would be ships, being able to launch and tie themselves when it made sense. celestial inversions and other songs, everyone celebrated. and told new stories, interspersed.
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