Description
An opening close-up view of a dump suggests that we are all compost, humus, part of the urban decay mix. Our ears become attuned to the eerie sounds of birds flapping their wings between tired looking tower blocks, which glow under a low sun. An array of strangers appear alienated and obscured by the shadows of their own apartments, but they are also all part of the same one network, like a giant concrete mycelium brain.
“Who could imagine, that from a soft mud seeped by the sun, the marriage of all the species would sprout?” says a crackling voice of an elderly woman, her deep breathing and smearing sounds making us savour every single word. We hear a gritty account of a sexual encounter between strangers, a story perhaps never shared before? But is this woman still with us, or is it a ghostly voice from the past?
At times hopeful (“I think Earth is amazing '') and at others deeply dark, 2nd Person offers an invitation to shamelessly stare in close detail with the hope for interconnectedness at the urban ecology beyond the human; a trance-like experience of thirsty desires that gets into your skin.
Ane Lopez