I write with the landscape. 
 
I am related to the sound of rain in the leaves dripping down on our heads in the forest. 
 
I am related to my thoughts drifting in and out to the hanging rhythm of the hammock.
 
Theoretical words of the recent past, the now, the yesterday, then the now again, then the now again. 
 
I am related to my body, related to my sleep, related to my here.
 
Related to the shootings in the background reminding us of the world, the war, the crisis on the outside of this camp.
 
But ok, I am also related to the crisis. Of course I am.  
 
I am related to the others but not the Other.
 
I am related to. 
 
We say that I am related to everything.
 
We say we, because there is no they.
 
There is no other. The other is inside us.
 
But then I think, it is not true that I am related to everything. 
 
Or rather: I don’t feel that I am related to everything. 
 
Related. To everything.
 
I am not related to the war.
 
Well ok, I am, but I don’t feel related to it.
 
I am not related to the nation state.
 
Well, ok, I am, but I don’t feel related to it.
 
It stops raining. Dampness. Wetness. Shyness.  
 
Later in the day the clouds are falling to the ground. 
 
I move stones in the dry field. To the rhythm of the shooting in the background. The rule is simple. Pick up a stone. Walk with it. When there is a shooting, stop and lay down the stone on the ground. I pick up another stone. I walk with it. When I hear a shooting, I stop and lay down the stone on the ground.    
 
I feel so far away from my relations of the everyday. Why is that? I need to connect all my relations. These relations from one landscape to another. I think about ecological pedagogy as a practice.
 
We walk through the forest together. We are lost. We did not know that it was possible to get lost anymore. We can hear that we are very close to a country road, it must be a small forest, but the GPS does not read. We bumble into the old railroad. Of course we do. Of course we cannot get lost. And we forget the anxiety as we swim naked in the lake.    
 
On my way home in the train, I note that the night is getting dark earlier now. The sun is orange falling as a strip from the horizon. In the dusk it seems like something is growing. The trees move closer to one another. A belt of leaves rolls in from nowhere covering the landscape. The few cars on the country roads stop confused with their lights illuminating the dark green. The speed of the train slows down until it stops completely. We are not many in the train. We look at each other. Then we begin to step out of the train. Bewildered we stand there. The belt of leaves is polite, it does not come close to where we stand, it just covers the train wagon and moves on. The lights of the train go out. 
 
I begin to move into the dark. I move slowly through the branches, the plants, the leaves. It is ok. I rest. A pair of yellow eyes looks at me. I move closer to the warmth. And then it all stops.

Keywords
Landscape, relations, relatedness

About the Author
Sofie Volquartz Lebech is a performance artist and PhD who works in the field between theory, research and performance. She is an Associate Professor at Malmö Theatre Academy. In her artistic PhD project Thinking with Performance: Research-Based Aesthetics in Times of Conflict and Crisis she seeks to develop the theoretical and artistic framework of a research-based practice. Her artistic practice begins and ends with performance writing.