[the silence of plants]

a one-sided relationship is developing quite well between you and me. i know what a leaf, petal, kernel, cone, and stem are, and i know what happens to you in april and december.

though my curiosity is unrequited, i gladly stoop for some of you, and for others I crane my neck.

i have names for you: maple, burdock, liverwort, eather, juniper, mistletoe, and forget-me-not; but you have none for me.

after all, we share a common journey. when traveling together, it's normal to talk, exchanging remarks, say, about the weather, or about the stations flashing past.

we wouldn't run out of topics for so much connects us. the same star keeps us in reach. we cast shadows according to the same laws. both of us at least try to know something, each in our own way, and even in what we don't know there lies a resemblance.

just ask and i will explain as best i can: what it is to see through my eyes, why my heart beats, and how come my body is unrooted.

but how does someone answer questions which have never been posed, and when, on top of that the one who would answer is such an utter nobody to you?

undergrowth, shrubbery, meadows, and rushes… everything i say to you is a monologue, and it is not you who's listening.

a conversation with you is necessary and impossible, urgent in a hurried life and postponed for never.

wislawa.