The powerful echo of bomber engines obscures the scream of the falling
live flesh. In his earphones, the pilot hears the echoes of radio noise,
and feels the perturbations of the bomber changing its altitude.
Muscular guys with stony faces have quickly handled the affair above the
jungle drowning in the dusk. The pilot curtly informs the base: mission
complete. The jungle echoes when the live falling flesh is torn at the
collision with lianas and tree branches. The startled birds soar up and
the beat of the wings echoes high above. The baboons shriek in parallel
with the echoes of bloody cannibal rituals in the thicket. The sounds of
violence pierce the jungle. The echoes are the only substance remaining
at the shed of blood. All those dead and tortured transform into one
loud echo of the world. Echo is the ghostly face of the world. Dirty
sound of this tape is a tribute to things remaining after the bloodiest
crimes. Their only testimony is the echoes and not some bloody Amnesty International's declaration. Edition of 100 copies. Available at Autarkeia. 5eu / 18lt« back