Theresa George

Two women spend a weekend in the North Sea. One of them will soon return to her family in Argentina, whereas the other one will try to come a step closer to the ocean. She will cross the Atlantic Ocean on a sailing vessel. Time leaves the beaten track and the swell lulls to deep sleep. The sea takes over the narration. When the other one reappears, the wind is still in her hair while the ground beneath her feet is solid. She returns and the other one could ask: “Have you changed?”

The people are in turmoil. The ground from which their enchanted garden grows, is trembling. Between bushes and trees, flowerbeds and fountains, everyone has lost their way on their own. Their eyes search for paths, their hands try to remember. Sometimes they spot something. Sometimes they listen. They catch a whisper, a faint promise. They follow the petals downstream. Further. (Theresa George)