The sound of listening; A canopy of trees in a tiny urban forest sways to the pulse of a chainsaw orchestra. On Lkwungen family lands. The same canopy sways to the filmic score of child-made rain on Whadjuk Noongar boodja (country). Forest shrinks in the unseen force and scale of clearing. Weather states change bodies, reinvent imaginations, reorient which way is up. Weather weathers. Where are the trees stretching/disappearing to? What kind of weather sways in your imaginary? Occupies the waterways under your skin? Do you hear rain, fire, undergrowth, overstories, resistance, destruction, burnt leaves falling from unanchored disintegrating roots? Listen. You are entering an unstable weather continuum, a presencing of trees and choose-your-own-adventure soundtrack, shaped by the absence of rain, histories of presence, as the sound continue to loop, and trees continue to sway. For now.
What if listening is an artwork in itself?