(t)reeplantTHIS! the full story – part IV
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.
booze night / banning the doomed
the bush is located in a different timezone. after a while you forget about what day and night are in real life.
even time does not really matter any more, the sun rises, floats across the deep blue sky and clears the way for the night to follow.
you work through bush- monday/tuesday/wednesday, like a clockwork, until thursday, booze-eve. it feels like christmas, wild christmas. at least a little bit, when they take the booze orders and your excitement let’s you forget about tomorrow.
day and night merge, setting free the demons of a long week: welcome to bush-madness.
the school bus is a lightning now, hammering down into the earth of the peaceful camping-spot to release the overload of energy a horde of tree planters gains, wandering a 5-6 days week between the gates of heaven and hell. someone gives the obligatory speech:
guys, you killed it,
the beer store didn’t have your beer brand. whatever, there are bigger problems, get your booze and shelter. first one down before you even reach the centre of the camp-site, the market place for drunks, love and forgotten happiness. the (crew-)shotgun is mandatory, second, third one down. the alcohol takes its toll and gives birth to tired bodies and blurry minds. it’s 08:00, you’re drunk, you found your shelter.
the kitchen-trailer is the place where angels cook. the good souls of the camp bring burgers to the people, because they want to prevent the place turning into a zombieland. and the camp eats – kitchen 1, demons 0.
full bellies sitting around the table, around the fire pit. the sun sets, the demons rest. you watch the flames dancing, next down, the fifth can wait.
bang, the sound of a alive bullet, thrown into the fire, tears the peaceful night apart. everybody’s alive and the boss states, that the incidents of stupid actions, leading to serious injuries, are down to 50%.
you stumble towards a big pile of wax laced, empty tree boxes. the bus-master alice follows you, she (always) has the (almost neurotic) will to kill (this pile of boxes). she drives them into the fire and the flames get higher, and higher… the boxes illuminate the marketplace, the kitchentrailer and even the shitters. parts of the wax boxes, small pieces of glowing cardboard – they look like little dragons – are trying to escape the circle of drunken madness, flying in panic into the surrounding forest. the surrounding forest turns into a silhouette of burning christmas trees.
where’s the dog, muli! there she is. sharon, back to her roots, like a baby, slept in – half on top of the little, fuzzy camp-monster.
your night life’s journey follows an unexplored course and leads you finally to a flower waiting in the dark. a short, coloured kiss and an army of artificial love and butterflies floods your physic existence. the demons give up, the angels take over, easing your mind.
you find a french fisherman. he has touched the lips of unfullfilled dreams and illusion too – you both sail together now, straight into the dark and later down the slip’n’slide into the leechy lake, until the black night swallows the very last.
showdown of a magical night, the demons are fading. the fire still burns, while the sun lurks behind the horizon, waiting for a moment of silence to take over the world… day off
[all photographs Nikon FM2 on kodak portra 400]
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