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Requiem for a Dying Society

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“I’ve always found myself sitting on a slope in the afternoon in Bakkhali when heartlessly beholding the ebb tide and the deceased sea with only one or two people in far distance and in sight as well as in existence at that moment. In the heavy breeze you can hear them talk, one person at a time, clearly, even if they are almost out of your sight. They always look so small and helpless beside the deceased sea and gray beach as the sun starts setting. And when it’s entirely dark you can hear it in the breeze, as if the Water Sprite from Selma Lagerlöf‘s short story The Musician has come to life, playing the primordial polkas one after another. And when it’s full moon and the high tide hits, you can see them, the forest and the ocean olympians start being visible and dance to the minimal masterpieces, to the water, sands, trees, earth, to the songs of nature…. A graceful reminder of our very existence in the lap of Gaia is nothing but a fragment of friable equilibrium..”



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