Beyond Performance: Stillness as Action, Lockdown on the allotment
Cronk cronk… Cronk cronk… Cronk cronk… At the third of the rhythmic set of cries I stop, push the garden fork into the soil and turn. Of course, I know it’s a rook, but somehow there’s a depth in this particular call that makes the familiar strange, she has my attention. The tone and the …
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