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(t)reeplantTHIS! the full story – part III

September 6, 2014 - romanticpathofselfdestruction -

some parts of the story told here could be fictional, nothing is serious or true, but everything’s nothing but the truth and actually happened. we respect the integrity and privacy of everyone mentioned in the following, so names are changed, the rest is history.

welcome to the block:

the camp has left the camp, stuck in a truck – now it’s up to you how your day goes.

two crews are supposed to plant in a ‘walk-in’-block, which means they have to hike to their territory, up and down hills through paddles and swamps. the client called 80.000 little motherfuckers to put into the ground, and the tree deliverer helps and looses half of his load, scattering dozens of boxes, thousands of trees all over the dirt road. the convoy stops, everyone bags up – a full bag and two and a half kilometres to go.


what a beautiful mess…

it’s time to kill it now, time to kill yourself and back the you would never ever have believed how close heaven and hell are. they exist both on earth, next to each other – here is hell, here is heaven.
you walk along the venue of hard feelings and emotions, a palace of sorrow and pleasure.

today is a big day. every day is a big day. big day means big numbers, big numbers mean big money for everyone, that’s why you’re here, right? alice drove the bus, money drives the bus and 8,5 cents drive a tree into the ground.
fuck that, today is wrapping day. that means your crew is supposed to wrap up (finish) the block, which means every planter finishes her/his piece and hops into another ones piece and so on…
a piece in turn is part of the block. it’s usually flagged in orange, blue and red, marking the borders down to the residual (you never, never plant trees in).

today is a big day. two crews, 80.000 trees to plant and a 2 k walk over a no-4×4-swamp. fully bagged up you jump into the cold, stinky, dark hole. shovel, lunch, a quick lunge and water jugs? check, check, check. muli? check. moral? check. down in the swamps you walk, you don’t complain. you do, but in silence. not knowing what to expect on the other side of the bloody marsh, the boss says, that the other camp the other day refused to plant the area and turned around. mission failed. they failed. your camp does not surrender, so you wade on…
you cross the swamp, soaking wet at 8:00 AM, the sun’s a bitch, not coming out. but hell always turns into heaven, wrap it, slut it out and go home.


you’re trying, you plant down your blue flag, no rocks. it’s going to be a good day. your neighbour plants his way up the blue flag and explodes without warning. you planted a tree on his territory, you never plant a tree on kanes territory. just plant it somewhere else buddy…
THIS IS YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUURRR TREEEEE. melt down. in the jungle, wet jungle. trees. traps. war. everywhere. muli? escaped.

five hours later you finish your piece and walk out of the forest. the only thing you can think about is napalm, just napalm. where’s the air forces of the world when you need them for something ‘good’. tree planting is definitely not about a real heritage, so why not burning down the whole place now?


it’s still wrapping day and you jump into edgar and wolfs piece. party planting. you plant here and there, up and down. soldier powerplants. check. you take down the bitch with your friends and gather with the rest of the crews in the end of the day. relief. you breath. 1800 trees planted, the ‘best’ planted 2000 and one beats them all and comes home with 2400.

fear the next chapter about ‘booze night & stealing things’

[all photographs Nikon FM2 on kodak portra 400]

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