https://vimeo.com/1175157735?share=copy&fl=sv&fe=ci
What I’m wondering, as I rub the flesh and residual fat on your skin is, where am I right now ?
— a utilitarian practice, a romance of indigenous kinship, a readiness to survive?
Your skin came after the slaughter of some of your herd up in Northern Sweden, Lapland. This summer I was there and learned fascinating things about your kin. Your eyes changing color to bear the constant daylight/ darkness of the Artic region. Your nails clicking in different rythm to share location, food spots and other observations.
Cleaning up the toilets of a tourist campsite, I occasionally see one of you and feel pleased at this sight. Your kind is quite exotic to me.
The fall comes, and the bushcraft people of the ecovillage I randomly ended up in, start with this skin scraping course.
And so I am here now.
This experience reminds me of when Jean Hegland wrote us the story of Nell killing this wild boar. Do you know him?
Anyway, it happens after a lot of waiting, sleeping on a tree branch, finally jumping on them to gut them open with bare hands. It is a pretty intense tale. She writes the killing in the messiness of fluids, organs and viscuosity of entering an inside.
Right now, I have to cut out what is left of your anus.
I seem to reach for connection with my fellow humans to make sense of what I’m doing. A weird sighted-laughter erupt.
I wish I could do this with more reverance.