leporello

If you walk down the street of the house I live in, the house I grew up in, you get to a huge natural conservation field. One day, on one of my walks there, I found a tree, perfect to climb and sit it. I was around 13 at that time. Since then, this tree has been my tree. No matter how long I’m gone, I always find my way back to it. I sit in it on good and bad days. It is my place of absolute inner calm and peace.
Growing older, I’ve been trying to hold on to this tree and the feeling it has given me. But I am scared. Scared, that one day, all this won’t be here anymore. And it’s not only about my tree, it’s a general fear that’s been creeping up into my stomach more and more these days: Is the world, as we know it, already gone? In a world where borders are starting to blur between what’s existent and what’s fabricated, how do we maintain our relationship with nature? Do we still have one? Or are we desperately trying to hold on to something that’s crumbling in our hands, in front of our very eyes?