What if you could grow hearts in the ground, or even in pots for the city-dweller. What if you could grow hearts and they came from seeds the shape of shoes and you had to water them and they hung from a vine like paper birds, all sunken and unfolded. What if when the hearts were ripe, you could pick as many or as few as you wanted and the moment they were plucked from the vine they turned into little fires but they didn’t burn in your hand. What if they burned but you couldn’t feel any heat and what if when they died, they turned blue and drained like squid ink but didn’t stain your hands. What if when you buried them back in the ground nothing could grow in that soil ever again. What if you couldn’t step on the ground where a heart had been buried because you would sink. What if walking became heart-hopscotch and we called it dancing. What if one day we all could only stand in one place because the earth had become barren because hearts were buried everywhere except where each of us was standing in our shoe-shaped feet. What if people first tried to flap their arms and fly. What if people rigged intricate rope systems to try to swing across the hallowed ground to get to one another. Who would take the first step toward someone else even though they knew they would sink. That person would be the first one of us to comprehend everything.
MP3: The Dharohar Project, Mumford & Sons and Laura Marling- Meheni Rachi
posted by holly.
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