I return to this text having been on a Walk myself. Felt – that which they had described. A bit. For a short time. Still. Felt it in my eyes. Discovered the forest – which breathes. Living trees which protect. Traces of those who leave. In an attempt to live. I come back to this text full of words to invent. To say. Telling you what there is. Beyond. The world after the words. I come back to this text a being of silence.
There sometimes is no question to be asked. No silence to be broken nor issue to be fixed. No help to be brought. Nothing to do but be. Listen and breathe. Welcome and scream – or not, not even scream. On a Monday evening, as the sun set over the Netherlands, Norway and France, Rikko Voorberg and Signe Myklebust, welcomed me into their memories. Miles apart we went back in time, wandered around, thought, shared and kept quiet, sometimes.
They took me to Bosnia, where they spent a week walking, from February 13th to 18th, 2022. From Tuzla to Sarajevo, to Bihac and Velika Kladusa. Meeting people on the move at the borders of Europe. Their hands empty and hearts full. They took me back on a walk they went on “to be”.