Violist and composer Maya Felixbrodt:
“Calling the animal women:
We don’t know what to do about the snake. How to kill it.
We’ll take it to our animal farm, they say.
We need 10 boxes for that.
I’m surprised – why 10? Is it that big?
The women come to see the snake.
There is its house. Sand house.
Cracks in the sand.
I guess I already know what the woman, the animal doctor, is going to say.
That it’s a sign, that the snake is going to die, if its house is cracking.
Should we let the mouse eat the snake? or the snake eat the mouse?
I’m telling my mother, that there’s a mouse. Relatively, she’s not so scared.
Its fur is shiny, clean.
On a slightly hilly surface: two holes, precise circles. They belong to the snake.
All of this, in the middle of something which feels like a burden.”