𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵, 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘦 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥.

A meteorite, before it is diagnosed as one, is a particularly uneventful and unexciting object. It is repeatedly used as a door holder, a field marker or meaningless rock obstructing the path, blending amongst the other rocks and stones that carry no use for humans. Once it is identified or speculated that the rock is a visitor from outer space, it takes on a whole new role. It is the story that transforms it into a cosmic relic, a celestial object carrying stories of distance, sublime and often - religious. Seen as god, chained to the ground in case it decides to make a return to heavens, celebrated. For over two years I have been collecting countless stone stories. Many of them belong to folk people, collectively woven myths that gave ground to caring rituals of relating to space, the land, to one another. Over time these stories mutate, fluctuate, gently passed from one generation to another. 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 is an exploration of a (cosmic) rock as a carrier of stories, a migratory body, a silent, mysterious visitor, filled with projections and dreams. It is an investigation of the myths and stories and an act of reclaiming them back.