No!
Not this year, I can’t.
I don’t have the strength; I’m tired.
No!

When it’s enough it’s enough, I need to stop.
If others want to move on, it doesn’t matter.
I am tired.

I don’t want to either! Shouted another.
Since the dawn of life we give, we give without conditions, from season to season. Where is the rain this year?

I’m tired, I don’t have the strength. He went back to say.

I want to rest, stay in hibernation and when the time is right I will wake up, should it be even in 1000 years, now I just want to sleep.

What about me then? Asked another.
So why do I do it?
It was you who taught me that we never give up, that this is our task, that we have a big responsibility to our mother.
And now?
What about me then?

My dear, he said, you are young and strong, you still have to.
It is your duty to do so.
Wake up, be reborn, from season to season, then fall asleep and wake up again. This is your job!

And yours? Said the young man.
You give up like this, you who stands there, motionless yet full of life.
You who showed us the way, you who preached justice.
And now?

Dear, he replied, your words touch me deeply but there is something even further down that doesn’t respond anymore.
Life doesn’t go up anymore, my tips break, my limbs weaken, my center falters. So now I have to choose either this spring or the next one.
Either this moment or the next one and then nothing more.
On two legs it walks and the air pollutes, the ice melts, the earth digs, concrete walls build, animals kills and forests decimates.

On two legs they walk to cut ours and build their dwellings.
We, my dear, since immobile we remain victims, their air we breathe and that water that once was ours I don’t want to drink it anymore.
It’s no longer my time, but it’s yours, yours!

You will know how to adapt, change, fight; I’m sure you’ll make it!
I don’t.
This year I can’t, I’m tired.

I want to rest.
These were the last words that the old oak, at the sunset of its existence, left the forest that was now going on with uncertainty.

Then it was silence, the old oak tree fell asleep and never awakened again.

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Martin Angiuli was born in the South of Italy in 92′. For 12 years, he’s been a professional dancer and he co-founded the ConTrust Collective. He works in Europe and abroad as a dance artist, professional writer , photographer, and filmmaker. His films have been shown in various video festivals, online galleries and installations.