1/11
Film-like: twisted oak in a confined classroom. The classroom is old,
the desks are in neat rows, the air is humid with the grating choir of
wooden floorboards. Ivy creeps unrurily all about the floor. Emptied of
the laughter of children, the classroom contains a sacred, still kind
of silence- the silence of the woods. The oak is beautiful, very
beautiful and very old. His arms pierce the rooftops, and below, the
rotting wooden floorboards. The tree is in agony, I can feel it. I am
doing a documentary about this. The oak's tragedy of getting trapped in
a confined space- the whole internal monologue.