Tiina Rajakallio (Finland)

Abundant years and rough times, marks of decay and animal attacks I can only guess the hight of the tree and smell of the soil that once nourished its roots. But even I don’t know where it belongs it carries traces of its origin if I am willing to hear.
I have tried to maintain its own voice, what is left, to honor its memory of the place.
It’s a story about roots and leaving, the salty smell of the sea, the one last gaze that should keep the all. It’s about the crumbs of the heart left behind just to find the way back.