Flux in this Forgotten Farm

A performance between fire and water, between the past and future. A voice tries to speak, faster and faster, until it breaks. A body slips, calls out, wishes. My mother was a hydrologist. I saw her one last time. Water wages war. First fire found me. A father plays the oud. A smell disappears. A child sings. Between confession and collapse, something is carried. Something refuses to leave. www.FringePalestine.com