Marco D’Agostin - SAGA

Five human beings stop on a land or a clearing. If anything was here before, it is now buried under meters of hard earth. No species acts alone; no story big enough to hold the banks and open the borders can be written in loneliness.

With a common and placid pace, proceeding as a novel, the five human beings seem to suggest that every form of kinship is foreign, unexplainable, disturbing but always profoundly active. They practice together an intuitive gaze, full of affection; their breasts are transparent, they continually try to enter the horizon of the other. The state of alertness is the one usually reserved to the observation of a summer sky at night, anxiously waiting for a glimmer.

The resonance between bodies is mysterious, the reciprocity of gestures and signs responds to a continuous, underground tumult.

On this background of encounters and misunderstandings, everyone performs their entry at the right time, and this is the secret of their loneliness: the single voice always accentuates the fullness of the choir. Behind the glimmering dialogues and confessions, a song unfolds calmly: perhaps the memory of a city of the past, perhaps the invention around which a new gathering will be built.

The voice of the five human beings detaches pieces from the golden background of the world and brings them to the foreground. Each vowel, each consonant builds and keeps a secret.

Isn’t family the place where we live and die together, remember and forget together? As it would happen to a group of careful but moved archaeologists, during one last exploration the land will swallow the words, and the words will once again merge with the orchestra of the world.

Source: www.marcodagostin.it