DEAR EESTIMAA,
2023Performance
30min
“Dear eestimaa, (eesti soil),
It has now been about one month since I last felt your freshness in-between my toes, your perfume amidst my lungs, your tenderness accommodating my weight. Thirty-two days might indeed not feel like an awful lot, but each minute weighs deeper with longing than its preceding one. I walk through the radiant streets of this concrete-covered city, vibrating with joy and energy, and I recall on your long green forests and your soothing soil. I see the dirt particles that accumulate on the cracks of the sidewalks and wonder if they are your children, sent to me by the gentle wind. I see the weeds bursting through the street edges, and dream their roots connecting to yours. I look forward to meeting you again. Until then, I find comfort on the ground, for I know that its deepness will forever connect me to yours.
It has now been about one month since I last felt your freshness in-between my toes, your perfume amidst my lungs, your tenderness accommodating my weight. Thirty-two days might indeed not feel like an awful lot, but each minute weighs deeper with longing than its preceding one. I walk through the radiant streets of this concrete-covered city, vibrating with joy and energy, and I recall on your long green forests and your soothing soil. I see the dirt particles that accumulate on the cracks of the sidewalks and wonder if they are your children, sent to me by the gentle wind. I see the weeds bursting through the street edges, and dream their roots connecting to yours. I look forward to meeting you again. Until then, I find comfort on the ground, for I know that its deepness will forever connect me to yours.
— Inês”
(excerpt from the performance)
This performance is a love letter to the Estonian soil, using symbolic elements specific to the place that was my home for four years. During a journey full of fascination, bliss, sorrows, and goodbyes, I verbally recall my fascination with the snow sparkling as bright as glitter, the sharp ice cutting through the skin, or the shades of pink, blue, and violet painted by the sun. Without ever touching the ground, and resisting the gravity and imbalance which pull me towards reality, I cling to the fantasy of a lost home that now exists only in memory.
