I regularly talk to the trees as I find them to be somehow connected to a supernatural world that I still find to be rational. I am not a very spiritual person. I would say I can even lack optimism at times. But I do feel an extreme connection to the trees. My father loved trees and oftentimes, when walking through the forest, I would be talking to him only to realize he was standing 50 meters behind, lost in a wondersome gaze. In recent days I've been detached from the natural world. Feeling that in order to breath fresh air, force would be required. Today I had to go, as the task had been given. When I arrived I felt grounded in looking up. This was then overpowered by a sense of guilt. So my conversation started with an apology. I felt I had left the trees too long and had not given them the admiration they so deserve. I communicate with my guttural intention and eye to bark contact. So, as I rode my bike down the path, I said, “I am sorry I left you for so long.” I don't want my absence to be interpreted as unappreciation. I don't want to be like other people who see trees as an ever-anticipated, unextraordinary part of our daily life. As i said this i started to feel a response. I made a mistake. I had given the trees a narrative for which they did not identify. They do not expect to be seen as a spectacle. They do not expect anything. The way I do not always understand them, is the same way they do not always understand me. They empathize, unconditionally. I never came. I never left. The water that keeps my blood pumping is the water that is soaked up by their roots. The air that I breathe is the air they themselves produce. As I move across the earth the vibration of my footsteps makes its way to their trunks. They remind me that detachment is only a feeling. No matter where I go, living or dead, we will always be connected. As I ride my bike back to the concrete jungle, I know the trees are with me and I know I am able to keep on going.

Marie Berlovitz, 25.04.2024