1. |
Gerasim
01:55
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Gerasim, our courageous friend, has undertaken the task of recounting where he has been and what he has witnessed in the realm where music resides.
As he journeyed, he recorded the questions to which he eagerly sought answers, inscribing them with a blue pen upon his palms:
How can one avoid losing oneself in the world?
How can one ignore the hollow words?
How can one remain empty?
How can one avoid becoming one of the masses?
How can one find kindred minds?
How can one achieve freedom?
How can one liberate oneself from the voices?
How can one discern one's own voice?
How can one perceive the essential?
How can one learn to let go?
How can one enter those doors?
How can one depart without looking back?
How can one avoid being blinded by tears?
How can one recognize beauty?
How can one refrain from judging others?
How can one remain unbroken?
How can one avoid breaking others?
How can one endure pain?
How can one discover love?
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2. |
Alice's train
03:58
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So this story begins Gerasim's journey home.
Imagine you walked without looking back,
moving forward, occasionally veering slightly to the right or back, even if to the left, but continuing onward.
(So it is written on all the scrolls by the road)
And you walked for so long that you grew weary, although your legs were not aware that they were heading where they themselves desired.
So, you became tired and looked back.
There was emptiness.
Emptiness behind and ahead, and within, right in the center.
You walked confidently enough but began to slow down.
Not so much as to come to a complete halt, but you began to brake gradually.
Your steps became so heavy as if all the weariness had settled there.
All this fatigue descended from your head to your heart and crawled down to your legs.
It slithered.
And Gerasim raises his head and tries not to look back.
But the feelings cannot be deceived.
And these feelings speak of the fact that the return home will indeed be a return home.
That is all.
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3. |
This too shall pass
02:33
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He dances quite strangely, but very rhythmically.
This rhythm calms Gerasim's mind,
As if suddenly everything decides to calm down and get off this train at their stops.
They jump onto their shelves, as if into their own place.
Well, you know what I mean.
All these scraps stop rustling,
They wrapped themselves into their zero position and no longer intend to unfold.
Gerasim feels as if he's inside a noise that doesn't make a noise.
A plastic bag that doesn't rustle.
Spoons that don't clink.
People who don't nag.
They all start moving very rhythmically and rhythmically.
Gerasim continues to dance.
Taking a quick look around - a pause,
because those unloading Gerasim start looking around.
They're slightly offbeat - they turn around, sometimes looking as if they're about to strike and then quickly step back.
They approach again, pretending to go the wrong way, turning around and preparing to strike, but not at me or anyone else.
It all looks very, let's say, wrong - unnatural.
Gerasim keeps dancing to the rhythm and observing.
It's not like he's staring, he's just keeping an eye on these movements.
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4. |
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At some point, Gera grows tired once again,
He lies down on the grass.
The blades sway above him—tall and golden.
Golden, because the sun is setting, and its side casts a golden hue.
Gera lies there, gazing at the pink sky through the golden blades.
He lies on the ground—on living earth.
And in one of those moments they call 'at some point,' Gera gently begins to sink downward.
He doesn't fall, like Alice; he simply descends, or as if the blades around him start growing taller.
Gera sinks deeper.
You know, you can't keep doing the same thing with great persistence and expect nothing to come out of it.
If that's how it goes, then it's time to change course.
Just pause and do what you didn't plan to do.
Just do it right now.
Yes—Please think about it.
Someone continues playing the piano.
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5. |
My lost autumn
04:35
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My missed autumn - a beautiful disaster.
It's hard to argue with reason, because you are reason, but sometimes you can engage in a dialogue.
Step away a little from your own identity while still being within it, right in that very moment.
The radio is playing. The fifth track prevents a deep fall.
As soon as you find yourself in a pit, you must absolutely stop.
So as not to be that girl who filled her mouth with water and didn't know how to resurface.
You need to pause and listen because music is what saves us from loneliness in the pit.
You want to break down the sounds into subtones and tinkles.
You want to touch the sounds, sometimes embrace them, and sometimes dive in headfirst and be drenched with coldness to the bone.
And you're still alive, remember that—autumn has arrived, and invisible leaves rustle beneath your feet.
I'm heading home.
I touch the trees.
I talk to them.
They don't respond.
They remain silent.
Gesturing in the language of the mute.
Yes, they respond.
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6. |
Seven
01:56
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On the 6th track, they let us go ahead - we are alive.
I know - they respond to me.
Sometimes, I think these two are deeply engrossed in something or whatever it may be.
After all, they speak to me - it's hard to believe, but they speak to me and, in general, to many others.
It's strange to hear this.
I'm not interested in people.
I can only perceive it from the outside.
I am a slave to my own freedom.
And what kind of freedom is there if these two will soon leave and leave me to live in this dull eternity - it's certainly easy for them to leave.
People love to just take off and leave as if nothing happened.
And what about music and me as well?
And what kind of freedom can there be without the sharpness of eternity?
The artist's struggle with the reality that consumes him.
I have lost the sense of hierarchy.
I must go.
I won't carry this with me.
Let’s think about it.
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7. |
Talking stones
04:15
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At the seven intersection, songs for bees can be heard from the window.
One craves the silence.
The mind is tired of peeling away and has assumed the position of Adho Mukha Vrksasana.
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8. |
Beware of the window
01:46
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I think it's time to go.
My radio tells me we need to move forward,
and my inner voice, my inner self, subtly hints at the same thing.
It's time for us to rise and f go!
We've lingered here for a long time, but now it's evident that we must get moving.
You stood still, and then suddenly felt the urge to go.
You gave up, but now you need to stand up and go - it's not easy.
I think we need to go.
Suddenly, the ticking on the radio stops.
You know, it's as if the heart has stopped, and this isn't a joke anymore.
Because Gera doesn't have a heart.
Can they hear me?
How did they find out about me?
I just wanted to be alone.
To take a walk.
Right now, I'm lying in the damp earth, in a pit, and I'm pondering how to get up.
How do I stand up when I've given up?
Think about it.
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9. |
Zoom to time selection
03:43
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It seems like someone is scratching inside my head.
I don't know if they're living beings or not, but they speak sometimes.
But they speak beautifully.
Always beautifully.
I listen to them, hoping to find something inspiring in these voices.
I believe this is not happening to me just by chance.
Not everyone simply lies in a pit and then suddenly decides to stand up and go.
Pause.
Stood up.
And walking.
Yes, I stood up - even by the sound, it became evident.
I fucking stood up.
I stood up and I'm walking.
And how I walk.
I walk with an amazingly confident stride.
I walk, and so do they.
They walk as long as I walk.
We all walk because I walk.
As long as I walk, everyone walks.
We all walk together.
We step over all the shit, all the traps, all the pits, all the pros and cons.
We leave all this bullshit behind.
And we walk.
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10. |
Line of nothing
04:10
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The stones are silent - the bones are silent.
Let's just be silent for a moment.
It seems like the sound is shifting and dancing with the clicks in my bones.
It's difficult to keep quiet and not talk about it because I have always been silent.
The sound travels through my bones - how did they do that?
Do you feel it?
Have you felt something new lately?
Well, I feel it now.
It's fucking amazing to simply feel something new right now, in this very moment.
Think about it.
Right now, because you might not have another chance.
Because we are already moving forward.
We pass by you and leave all this behind.
Speak it out loud.
I'm passing by.
I'm leaving all this behind.
I let it go!
Thank you!
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11. |
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This shit sounds like a complete clusterfuck.
Well, up to a certain point.
Such an abundance of sounds, and they all cacophonize.
It's difficult for a person to digest it, of course.
I don't really know how they managed to do it.
But my brain, it feels like it's expanding, relaxing, and finally the voices stop.
I'm floating along the Ucayali River.
A pink horse swims by, with a puppy sitting on its belly, holding a thermos and a pancake.
They notice me, and I notice them.
Hey.
Hello.
How's it going?
Good.
And we're floating along the river.
And it's becoming undeniably good.
Here, the world folds into such a soft substance.
We're like in a state of mind, or maybe not.
It's hard to describe these feelings.
They overflow with tranquility, ignorance, and some special mood.
It's like waking up to the smell of freshly baked pancakes, made by your mom while you were still asleep, and there they are, pancakes with raspberry jam on a stool next to you, and you're all alone at home.
But everything seems fine. And quiet.
Gera is far from irony.
Gera craves empathy.
Gera wants to acquire a new meaning in its structure and special function within the text.
We climb onto the bread rock.
We watch as the sun sets.
We catch the wind and bid farewell to our friends in a lifebuoy.
Further ahead, there was a huge pit of pain and mud. Advanced monkeys were digging it.
They want to plant the wind in a well.
So far, they seem to be succeeding.
Gera has been sculpting an army all summer, and tomorrow we're going out for a walk.
We're going out to throw stones into the pit.
We're going out to dive into the pit.
We'll end up there one day, all of us.
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404.zero Iceland
This accomplished and ever-ambitious duo of A/V architects and toolmakers cook up mind-altering experiences in generative art that require expertise in math, coding and the science of sound.
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