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obviously living out in the woods all by oneself might lead to a strange behavioural display: spending the whole of your days on earth sawing down oaks and firs older than your grandpa takes its toll, makes you edgy in the very least and what’s worst, there’s nobody around to complain to.
late night creaky radio voices from god knows where are not going to make you feel less lonely, too.

so our logger friend decided to bind the whole of his precious self to a mantra: that was tailored upon the name of four things he happened to like a lot back then, when he was living in a city and working nights.
three weeks later he was humming the mantra non stop, dawn to dusk.

and basically what i did was getting close, but not too much, concealing my blurry persona behind some bushes, and my own scent with elk dung: a tape recorder in my hand, a panoramic microphone, a notebook to jot down specifics.

and there he is, now, our logger friend: running along two halves of an hour of cassette tape, along with wind gusts and chainsaw rattlings and the occasional fir creak and shatter.

and i still don’t know what to do with that.

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