Sigh quickly, they are going to demolish the garden!

We start from silence. Slowly, joining circles that meet with the bodies of this dialogue between a plant and three women. To be with the guadua begins by asking: What does it say? How does it say it? And only silence comes out of that rod. It begins to speak slowly, it is time to sit down and listen to it with patience and softness. We take out tools that make us divide the time because the plant showed us that it was a way of speaking. We sit together with it without looking for any form. The form comes from the balance that will come later. Slower, more attentive, careful don't cut yourself. Stop, no hurry. Tie knots. Strong knots. When from a knot begins to be born another guadua plant, it becomes thicker, consistent, stubborn. Stubbornness is like a limit, the way guadua guides us and shows us its possibilities. One day she began to speak softly: I am a rhizome woman who connects and supports, who sustains and nourishes. I am the root of the mangrove that, like a giant arm, embraces. We are three points of support to reside. In the knot I have resistance and life. In the dampness I soften and settle. I am the song of the lap, the blanket to fall on. I am a net that knots and helps, that holds knots and leverages gestures. The quick movement of my fingers lets me feel my phalanges throb. Their phalanges like my knots. I contort and force them to bend. I article, injure and fracture. I am dexterous and want to use the gentleness that exists within me along with the rudeness that is my salvation. I hold through the fibrous web and respond like an oracle, with possibilities and ramifications. Don't be afraid of me, I am like a hairy and brittle accompanying spider. They are full of me, but they do not see it. Then she whispered: Sigh quickly, they are going to demolish the garden!

Curated by Carolina Cerón