The Canal
The catkins sway in the gentle breeze and whisper to one another. They are a beautiful sight, each one a delicate gold and green color, but they know something the humans don’t. They know that the trees are dying. They watch as the leaves fall to the ground, brown and dry. In the beginning of 2050, they heard the Jaws of Death tearing through the forests. They waited for the rain to wash away the dirt and leaves and to feel the earth barren and gray. They don’t cry. They know that if they do, their delicate catkins will be destroyed. Instead, they sing, they sing to remember life as it was and to celebrate while it lasts.
To be continued...
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The catkins sway in the gentle breeze and whisper to one another. They are a beautiful sight, each one a delicate gold and green color, but they know something the humans don’t. They know that the trees are dying. They watch as the leaves fall to the ground, brown and dry. In the beginning of 2050, they heard the Jaws of Death tearing through the forests. They waited for the rain to wash away the dirt and leaves and to feel the earth barren and gray. They don’t cry. They know that if they do, their delicate catkins will be destroyed. Instead, they sing, they sing to remember life as it was and to celebrate while it lasts.
To be continued...
To be continued...
This project was funded by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media in the NEUSTART KULTUR program Module D - Digital Mediation Formats.
Poetically Based Rendering is a collaboration with the artist Jemma Woolmore.