Driving through the forest, we met a small herd of deer. They were eating hay from the feeding rack. Having seen us, they ran away a little, but they didn’t seem to be too afraid, and they didn’t run away very far. They were making room for us to pass by, rather than escaping in fear for their life. We all stopped and looked at each other for a long while. 

We once bought a mouse trap labelled as “humane”. It was a sizeable container with an opening, a glass ceiling and a system of latches that allowed the small, flexible animal to enter but prevented it from exiting. Something to eat had to be placed inside and the idea was to take the captured victim and carry it out into the field, where it supposedly belonged. At first, the entire operation succeeded several times, but eventually the mice started to avoid the device (let’s disregard the fact that they would rather soon come back from the field, because why not), so we forgot about it a bit, too. When I finally remembered about it, after some time – not that short, I admit –  I looked inside and found fur, bones and claws there. At least two mice died of starvation after eating the bait. They have rotted and dried out. Unde malum? If only by omission. That is, by nature. There are fewer eyes than things. Or, in any case, things are spreading out, faster and faster, beyond the reach of any glance. Or so it seems.

Leśmian: Deaths, about 5 minutes long, is ready. Starting tomorrow: Gorilla. A whole cycle is forming in my head. In an alternating, contrasting character. To put it in the broadest terms possible, that is, without actually saying anything.

Rak: I’ve gotten a little stuck. Lots of important decisions to make to start with; I keep switching between thinking about the entire work and the starting fragment I’m working on. There is relatively much to anticipate, especially in terms of the logistics caused by the varying degree of reliance on notation among the members of the ensemble I selected. But something is growing and emerging.