Responses to Open Call #6

Laura Jantunen

I’m mushrooming in the nearby forest that is squeezed between two growing suburbs. Just when I’m about to pick the beautiful black trumpet mushrooms that no one else using the forest has yet spotted I see something moving in my side-eye. There they are moving in a slow, wobbly, fluctuating manner in their sunburned pink outfit. When I approach them quietly I see them placing stones into the ground in the outmost delicate way, like they would be small kittens sleeping. Besides the figure rests two flat stones. For me, they look like shoes ready to rock the wearer into otherwhere.”

Kirsi Heimonen

Suddenly, an instant recognition: something beside this unknown corporeality invites to perceive how the leaves of the lime trees wave at the opposite side of the street. A sound, almost inaudible from those trees echoes from the window, it seeps through the corporeality making bones to dangle. Did a skip emerge? In falling darkness, distances in and outside open into infinity; the breath becomes soft moving quietly around and through the surroundings. The contours of skin blur, names fade, intimacy between all that is around emerges. That which cannot be known calms me down, walking continues.