Text inspired by Chris Lynn’s film
It’s the first time I feel the snow on the summer of my corner;
The snow of senses, of silence, of distance, on the heat.
Snow covering the forest, freezes the nose’s tip, the lashes, the taste;
The snow, the snowstorm that cools and challenges life, relationships…
The meteorological which delays the sensation of the touch;
And makes cold enough in the conscience, in the feet, in the running of everyday.
His watchful look on the cycle, on the growth and decline of existence;
With the forest melting on the fingers of the hands.
The skin heated by the light that shines,
The air that enters into the lungs, the still frosty wind of the day’s movement…
And in his warmth room, in the solitude of his home to the soul,
His insight: “this is the meaning of life.”