The last pears in the world

Last part of my memories of “Memories from a parallel future”: PAYING THE PRICE OF SURVIVAL

I collect cans, shoot them and gather the shells in jars. I enclose. To protect and hide. To keep, portion and ration. I put the beetroot’s broken bones in a cast and shoot it to pieces that wither and dry. I plant seeds in cans of glass and water them with saturated salt water.

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Beetroot in cast, just shot.
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The same beetroot, a week later.

The thing is: we are the descendants of the survivors. In every catastrophe, every time in history when humans have done horrible things to stay alive, our ancestors have survived. Every last one of them. Somehow that doesn’t cheer me up.

Memories from a parallel future, rusty pears
Reliquary for the last pears in the world, memories from a better time.

Ritual survival packages

Part 4 of my memories of “Memories from a parallel future”: SURVIVING

Depletion of resources always leads to violence. We know this, but still we keep nibbling at the earth a little chunk at a time. What do we plan to do when there is nothing left?

During crises rituals become more important to people, we cling to the known and safe. The thought that something has been done the same way, over time, by many people, fill objects, movements and words with meaning and function. We become actors and participants in a wider context, we don’t have to choose – the ritual is already set in its form.

Memories from a parallel future, bundle of rations
Survival for two weeks (plus an onion for some taste).
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Each package contains a daily ration for someone of my size to survive (not thrive). Rice, beans, grains, etc, in waxed cloth.

How do we survive today in a way that is worth its price tomorrow?