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Balkan landscape, 1995


These people belong in offices, not in the high grass. People expect me to know every clearing. I'm pointing here and there. They must not see the tears welling up in my eyes. Luckily, I stumble and fall into an anthill, eyes and mouth wide open. When I cough they turn their backs. They shun the sight of a suffocating man and prefer to retreat into the brush.


I shake it all off and am alone. Who will comb these people out of the woods like rusty bicycles? Sure, there are other forests, but who knows what happened there? From now on, I’ll stick to asphalt roads. I'll wander from church to church. The villages are empty. I have to enjoy the scenery before the cows, with no one left to milk them, start to bellow.


The earth was made by God so well

that none might starve and all may dwell;

He waters vales and mountain tops

to feed the cattle and grow the crops.


(Hans Vogel, 1563)


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