The Space…

Quietly getting lost and finding homes again?

How come this old tree is dancing? Adorned by veils of scented wool.
Between its twisted roots, and smelly droppings… what?
A neat pair of a woman’s shoes. Dancing shoes. Sky blue. What’s the story?
Did she lose her way; did she find it? Climbed the branches… vanished?  

Drumming intruders from afar, red cheeks invading sheep land at Bealtaine.
Opening invisible curtains to dwell with ancestors. Hopes, sorrow, losses.
Rising moon and setting sun, timeless voices. Enveloped, safe in the smoke.
Reds, orange yellows, dark blues. Transparent skies flying, travelling across.  

Our business partners, guests and clients, the shop keeper
live their separate lives on the other side of the scented veils.
We enter the dancing space, gathering the momentum we are drinking from.
Quietly getting lost, vanish and finding homes again.

Inger Säfvestad 2009