Tongue of Birds - Flowing Forms (2019)

Every sunset turned that place into wonderland. Every tiny ripple on the waters, every sun ray playing the game of shadows with the leaves, even gracile outlines of pines and sleepy bird songs – every trajectory and every orbit had its own certain meaning. Maybe just an illusion, the desire to fulfill, yet felt so clearly with emotions, dissolved in the air. Sea waves made their long paths all the way from cities, glaciers, volcanoes, maybe even tropical isles lost somewhere far. It felt right that there's at least one left, surrounded by faded radiowaves from continents. That noise in them was no different than waves were whispering to the slowly disappearing horizon.