Emerging sleepyheaded from the black woods behind us, we find ourselves approaching the rim of a serene coast, just as the blood-orange sun begins to rise from below the navy blue darkness and illuminate the horizon line in a silent unveiling. The sand below our bare feet is cool to the touch, void of footprints and softened with gentle sea spray from a night of staring at stars between clouds. The only sounds beyond the oscillating waves are distant crackles and dusty birdsongs...the ghost of a dawn chorus from long ago perhaps, forever cursed to wake with the first rays of sunlight, for no one. As the light expands its reach, blanketing the shore and the humid green wall of coppice behind us, the beat of hands on drums sounds out from nowhere and everywhere. Surely, we're still alone? After all, we found no one else in our entire time in the Acre. Still, an unspoken fear persists, and, as if the Acre were responding to this sudden urge to leave, we notice a deserted lifeboat resting a short distance away from us in the wet sand. Running to claim it, without thinking of where we might go, a warm hope rises in our bellies. How exactly did we get to the Acre in the first place, anyway? A single silent bell-ring of a thought occurs to us, stopping us in our anxious tracks: Have we always been here? Followed by other pertinent logics: Can we even leave? Where would we go? The still-ascending sun peels over the side of the lifeboat, revealing a weathered line of text..."SS BOTANY BAY 1983"...almost thirty years?!? A final realization clicks into place, and we now know that this lifeboat already belongs to us. Falling to our knees, admitting defeat under the now bright sun that casts dominion over the Acre, we close our eyes, run our tear-stained fingers through the sand, and go sleep on the empty beach, as we feel that we have so many times before.
released July 25, 2012
W/P by Brian Grainger. Recorded at Botany Bay, 2011-2012. This is Milieu Music number VA6.