We slip into a rift in the mountain, a crack in the earth, and enter a mineral world in search of something. Entering the refuge, the womb, the mouth, the bowel of the earth, the depth of the unconscious. A grammar of sounds making spaces, rooms and corridors; sinuous paths emerging in the void. This passage requires a willingness to step into the unknown, the uncertain, to slip out of time as we understand and live it.

What do you see when you stare into darkness? To enter the cave is to accept to be touched by things we cannot see. It is to listen and feel the collision of millions of years tellurically inscribed with the present and the future. It is tobecome intimate with things that grow in the dark: remnants, memories, all sorts of matter transforming slowly; bones turning into stone, decaying roots crystallising into gems, silent revolts brewing in the dark, undigested fears in the hollows of our stomach fermenting into visions, animals and spirits merging, creatures of another time emerging. The cave is a return to the void, back to formlessness, to be melted, digested anew.

-Jeanne Penjan Lassus