# Derive
Sat 15 May 2021
add yours in ANY LANGUADGE you like

## Cosio D'Arroscia
"Run". We almost missed the start. Up on the mountains we ate mediterranean fish. Helped to react quick to the alarm and set the stream. Plan to be hook was unfeasable and untestable so became a flow.
Mose' holding the recorder, Diego the amplified box, Gaia setting the pace and Cristina the spirits. We moved slow. Met the friends from Cosio, curious, available, sharply dressed. I moved with the flow, verbalising a bit. The form is the function is the form. The form of the "borgo" has a function that is lost. Protect. Create. I verbalised the places i touched. Slowly lost the others. From inside the houses, some houses, lively chats. Discussions. I felt the need to close my eyes. Found the group back under the roof of the museum of the herbs. A place we touched with our "in absentia" meetings and talks. It was warm and silent. We seng, a simple vowel. The people of Cosio Harmonising on my voice. So many color. So much strenght. Sudden the waves from Giampilieri, the waves from the radio. A contact was lost and a contact was created.
Emotionless i clapped trice my hands. Got lost another 10 minutes in the borgo, hiding the possibility of panic in the sound of another body walking. Edging panic. Sound as a guide. Closed my eyes again. Found myself in the square of the church. Found the group back. My derive was over. Till the next.
(fredd)
Intense moment the circle in the porch of the old town hall. the perception of connection with everyone present and a strong diffused energy.
during the drift someone said: "I can say I was there" it was music to my ears
(Cristina)

## Minusio-Ascona-Locarno:

Yesterday night while preparing for the drift was raining, I was with my boyfriend that accepted to play with me, we were in advance, but then took a lot of time to find a hat... So I ended up with my red-cross nurse one.
Decided to go by car till the other village, that has many arches, to avoid be there always with umbrella... But well in this 8 minutes by car rain stopped.
Anyway it was important to me to define a START POINT that was not the door of the house, so I could "prepare".
Was fun to hear you all talking and sharing and in the same time it keept me a bit distracted from my feelings.
The best moments where when we were not talking but broadcasting the sounds around, expecially because it was so dark by me but I could hear the singing birds from elsewhere, hearing steps and voices when I was alone in the streets, or see how the music around me was perfectly flowing in between your sounds.
I drifted because I was walking with you without having a place where to go, but also I was checking too much the phone for taking videos or pictures... Loved the experience but felt like I was not enough aware of the connection with my surroundings ant to my feelings.
We were connected in absentia, that was strong.
(Barbara)

## Ksenja
A taught off drifting re-living situation intringues me. I put on my black hat, purple dress, black shoes and a black cloak. I photograph myself as I do this, to send to the group in absentia.
On my departure outside. I feel the fresh breeze of the air. I feel a little bit cold. However, excited, and warm inside. It's dark outside, and the moon is still young, beautiful, like a crest. I see my shadows on the streets with a phone in my hand. I feel shadows as they come and go. I feel powerful. As I move. The streets are empty. I can hear the sound of my legs, feet touching the floor. As they are clapping. And then out of nowhere. A cat appears, grey and white meowing. She started to follow me. And I started to feel playful. She came to me and started to twist herself around my legs. As if she was trying to tell me something. And then she joined me. I walked. She followed. So I continued. I was filming streets, yet again. I could hear people on the phone. I could see. I could hear. Jamie, saying, It feels weird. But he doesn't know why. Then again silence. And then I switch off. And I walk. Coming to the street where I see my neighbour, playing with a dog who has shoe in his mouth, running wildly chasing it. I feel playful again. She's starting to talk to me and I listen. The dog is running everywhere. Excited. Playing jumping. And I laugh. And I switch off again. This time I walk back home. And as I walk into my house. I feel the movement and cintent.

## Kirsten
Account of the walk:
We left the house together Ilias and I. It was good he was with me. He chose the directions. And it was so nice to see him doubting and lingering where to go. After 20 min he was done so I brought him home through streets we usually don’t take. Then I moved on without my little angel but my legs where doing like his. And I was in good company on the phone. The electric lights went on. People were smiling at my hat. It was very cinematic. David lynchlike The trees and the electric light. The greens were very apparent maybe because of the rain. And they made me connect with the ground and that’s why I am happy to be guided by plants. I loved the idea of not going somewhere. I passed by the park where the gangs do their stuff. And passed by a street where somebody got stabbed two days ago. But now everything was pieceful. There are dark times and light times. I am in the light. I am happy. I am not alone. I can shed my light. I was listening to the others walking and to the people passing by in languages I don’t understand. I love it when language is just sound. And I can go with the flow of sound. I started to see the people in the street are all drifters. The refugees. The immigrants. We. The old town people meeting the new. A lot of miscommunication. But when there is no common language we sometimes manage to connect in the most pure ways. Maybe in the end that is all there will be left. This new world energy. dangerous romantic and sweet. That is both fysical and virtual. The waves of sound. Leaving space for imagination. This is already to much words to explain. I hate it when it becomes a thought. It is a very strong feeling. I feel the people in Cosio will recognize when we meet.

## HAnsko and Saskia
we went out, hastily, and didnt realize we were two days early.
i had put on my grey light grey woolen suit from the nachbarschiff hilfe. with a soft yellow tie. and my nepal hat from the border of tibet to top it. me.
saskia was wearing my favourite piece of cloth, the green one, as a robe.
and she took from the old room in this beautiful house in the village, the wedding jacket of her greatrandfather. she looked great. we went out in the dark. first onto the little grass field, now owned by the municipality, but formerly the plot for frutetto and onions and potatoes for the school teacher ( and music teacher). her grandfather Kurt.
we tried to make pictures. also on the lane towards the place where the donkeys live.
we didnt manage...
the afterparty was in front of the house. passt curfew!!!!
we used two ducks of metal, yo place our camera against. danced and posed in the dark.
i d taken of my tie.
we went in again.
on the scale of eternity, it didnt feel like it matterd we were two days earlier than you,

the next morning we went out through the koolzaad fields fighting the windmills and feeling the water in the Weiher.
we were Mike (from Kevelaar), Maggie from Nairobi and Valdemar () Saskia from Spielberg and me, from Vriezenveen. we collected colours.

i found one blue flower, greyish, but purpleish and whitish at the same time. my brother. younger.

saskia looked great under lamppostlight.

we tried to foto ourselves at the donkeys. ach...

## Vee
Dressed in black.
Top hat.
Tails wagging.
Eager to unleash the night.
We slink citywards
To sniff out new paths
Between the streets
A bell tolls nine.
And so, the beginning
Winding anticipation in tight circles around
The little bronze boy –
Once, twice,
Release
The sky spits out a wet invective
We patter down alleyways
Forbidden enclaves
Echoing the twenty-seven tongues of Antwerp
A staircase to nowhere
We find ourselves
At the waterside in Locarno
Amsterdam is sinking
We float downstream
On reflections
Doffing our hats
To junkies
And sweatpant gangs
We are zigzagging stray cats from Ston
Writing cursive letters on the city’s skin
Winding around bollards
Lurking low
To whispered missives from Cosio
Crossing bridges from ruins to reservoirs
We meet in the playground
The scent of jasmine
Birdcalls
Questioning liberties
An interlude
An intersection
A loop
A line back to the start
Circling anticlockwise goodbyes
We have re-turned.