They call it the Gorge of Hell, so of course, it is a Paradis. A crystaline clear cold river, whose source is Monte Sybillia, runs through the gorge, in fact has probably been responsible for carving it down so deep. Surrounding this gorge, impossibly high rock faces, into the rock are ruins from another time, untouched it seems, left just as they were when the inhabitants were forced away. I listened with my instrument: a blue cloth, which the day before, sailed in the wind, some 7000' above sea level, 4000' above me here. The cloth is taken by the river, washed, I pull it back and through, and release it again,
a movement resembling "yin yan herons carry the river," a microcosmic orbit qigong form. The cloth shows me the snake within the flow, and I allow myself to feel its pull, feel pulled into the force, the draw, the cool wetness of the cloth, I give myself over to the moment of sensual pleasure and interacting, with the river, the cloth becomes like a snake in my hands, I am handling the snake. As Ophiocus handles Serpens, whose stars are at my ascendant, and then I become her, and she me. "River me"*, snake me, place me, my blood becomes cool, the river is medicine to the swelling in me, and I, I, I, am free.

This performance was witnessed by and lovingly shot, as a collaboration with the supremely sensitive Misael Soto. With gratitude for this place, I bow.

*reference to the work of Adesola Akinleye, in The Georgraphies of Us, Ecosomatic Essays and Practice Pages, edited by Sondra Fraleigh and Shannon Rose Riley, Routledge Studies in Theater, Ecology and Performance, 2024