Stalemate under a foreign moon.
it’s just me, and the motionless faint yellowness sweating from the house onto the husky, deep, calls rising from the garden. other than that, a bunch of bricks, some wood and dirt, a few fallen leaves. everything wrapped together by the subtlest breeze.
for a second, the night was frozen in its warmth.
i was mulling over : someone probably heard me, or at least the beast, so, probably, someone’s on his or her way. he/she’ll probably (hopefully) calm the beast before opening the door and saying hello or something like that, probably. i maintained my cogitating : or, also probably (it is less probable, but it’s still a probability, and you know you should never underestimate probabilities), no one’s heard anything, and i should then probably cautiously open the door, and face the probably much toothed guardian of the property.
meh. after this hardly believable feat of speculating, it started to seem like nothing in the end would unfreeze the night, and i was preparing to spend the rest of eternity with the voice of an invisible dog as sole fellowship.
and then... i don’t really know how it happened, but the next moment, from the other side of the road, whose undergrowth i had not considered until then, two yomping silhouettes were achieving progress towards me at what seemed a tremendous pace. i was confused by this repeated baffling of my expectations, i think, and that shifted my behaviour to a kind of automatic mode.
the two human shapes briefly hail me. i process their tone as friendly. in response, a piece of oral language labelled as equally friendly is selected, and pronunciation is activated. during the whole interaction, everyone was blinded by each other's torches.
the memory i keep from that first human encounter is oddly slick, grainless. quite silent, and quite voidy actually.
i do keep a proper memory from that night though. i remember the bakery. the bakery, and its smouldering lights. it was a small construction, surprisingly shaky and hardy altogether, located on the border with the woods. almost hidden between trees and mushrooms, it was through its stones and shimmers that i was first introduced to the ecohackerfarm. at first, all of a sudden, you catch sight of the front wall, lingering on the fawn-and-green-coloured bushes. most of its surface area resolves into a door, very simple, made out of two tough-wood roughly equal revolving panels, long as legs. once they’ve opened, you’re gently sucked in before they cross again. the inside is a neatly dimensioned room, shambolic and cosy. but mostly, it’s warm. the whole place is instilled with the oven’s gleam, and the lights themselves are as if fueled by people’s smiles.
yeah. red soft smiles are what i can recall from this huis-clos. a whole gallery of them, from the smile with a shred of reticence to the wide fiery smile.
now, these moments, the ones behind the smiles, are over. they were carried away, like sand on the shore. as margaret once said, there is no alternative. except here, there really is none. but it’s funny to note that, although what drove me there were ideas and thirst for battle, in other words, some kind of quest on meaning, the only thing that vividly matters now are those absolutely meaningless smiling faces. and it’s not just that i value them today more than i believed i would. now that i think about it, i guess i believe everything i keep from my trip relates to one core-memory, beating like a slow unending folk song. that core memory, undoubtedly, it’s a shining smile. it shines like snow in andalucía, like something you wouldn’t have thought of.
not that the ecohackerfarm project shifted from combat unit to hippie cheesy gathering, no.
there was training, and there was sweat, and even blood. but it was all swallowed into a more complex and denser bubble by some sort of time vortex. every element, every impression and action, the wood, the grass, the steam, the smoke, the cables, the music, everything has been wielded together by the simple beauty of smiling faces. and in the end,that’s what gave meaning to the whole thing. i guess it made it a whole thing.

by Antoine