We were nomads. Moving outward from the womb of Africa. We were curious, we were explorers, we were also thinkers and hermits and recluses. Some of us roamed then paused on the banks of rivers, paused long enough to built a nest with the egrets. Others kept roaming, through luxuriant forests and toward a coldness. A magnet pulled us toward clear, sharp light reflecting off the absence of color. Pulled us toward open expenses so empty of others. We touched the magnet of silence and nature and it held us for an intense time.
Over millia we found our equilibrium. We caressed the whole of the earth with our feets’ wanderings and our backs’ sleepings, dark dirt beneath us and white dirt floating so far above us. Each nomad found their place, with many, with few, with no one.
Today, in the space of the black hole we wander still. Some of us dance for eons in a trance. We slowly sink to the sea floor of our mind, holding our breath we explore stillness through movement, the mind meanders so free and so far. We let our breath out and float to the surface, gasping. We swim to the shore and meet a tribe of chatterers who welcome us and fill us with their breath of the external world. We exchange thoughts and joys and fears. We feel free again and we roam with the chatterers, a temporary chatterer ourselves, we prowl together gathering water and air, and we drift with bodies summoned by drumming. Again, we dance together and alone, open eyed, closed eyed, touching, swirling, slapping, howling, hissing, undulating, transforming and transcending.