“Tired of all who come with words, words but no language... Language, but no words.” ― Tomas Transtromer. / It all started with that one skull. / As soon as darkness falls, I follow the animals. On the edge of the city, in the meadows, in the park, in the forest, or just in my garden. I follow them beyond the shadow line. I don't take photos like the National Geographic photographers, I creep in the mud, with a short lens, approaching them on equal terms. I can smell their scent, sweaty fur, and food remnants. I try to visually emulate their non-verbal language, I sharpen all my senses, I abandon what is human, and I rely on my animal instincts. / What is it, then, to go out into the darkness, without any form of artificial light or compass, ignoring everything common sense tells you? To stop the car in the woods in the dead of night. To wander among the trees in the rain. To hold your breath and strain your ears in the darkness. To trust your senses, surrender yourself to them completely. You can come close, but you can never fully understand the rules in play out there. We are animals. It is not a light, a streetlamp, or a shooting star. On the contrary, it is something hidden there, living, breathing. I know that. / It's hard to get close, we just die like animals.