- The Fog

           text. performance

It might be best to magine a climate that makes it difficult to speak and be heard. 

It is a climate that makes it difficult to affect change with your words.

This is a climate where the speech of most materialises dense white fog; heavy white fog that leaves you choking when you open your mouth, and swallows the little that manages to be uttered. You might be heard but the fog has distorted what remains of your expelled will. The fog takes it all for itself. Feeds itself on you. It returns your will to you in a most contorted configuration. When you open your will to yourselves it is there. All that is there to do is to find a way to speak with the fog in your lungs, wrapping itself on your intent. You must affect in such a way to allow the vibrations to leave you and pass to the rest of you. Is this speaking?

 

You cannot even truly be seen through this thick atmosphere. Your form is rendered monstrous by the white: a shifting amorphous mass. The stuff of nightmares in its seductive potential to be anyThing.

 

Looking back at first you see nothing, but if you squint you can make out some of the way you came. As you wait and work to see what has been laid down behind, you remember that you have been working to remember and to lay, to remember what most of you have been preserving and producing. Many years you have laid down the way behind but the fog shifts, sometimes so slowly and sometimes too quickly. Always too much to be fully apprehended and then you lose some of your way.

 

Looking forwards has always revealed little but what you wish. And what you wish will not keep the fog from shifting, will not see you through the fog.  

 

At first you were breathing it in, it was the way to live and all that there was. But ever since you learnt to look back and see what was laid down behind you it has become increasingly difficult to speak and breathe. Sometimes you're not quite sure if you can or if you are breathing. 

 

For now all that is there to do is to close your eyes and hear yourself in the dark. Allow yourself to feel yourselves sounding alarms on all sides that guide you through the fog. Remember the ways laid down in the dark.

Ebun A Sodipo
artist