a greenhouse, three tons of earth, buried eight hours
For eight hours I lay under a mound of earth – three tons of rich, fragrant organic soil.
I was in a greenhouse, ‘wintering over.’
My breathing, and sometimes my voice whispering, could be heard at the entrance of the greenhouse. But as people came in further, it became inaudible.
Standing near the mound, the audience eventually noticed a slight rising and falling of the ground, and could make out the shape of a body beneath the surface.
They were very silent.
Underneath it was pitch black.
The earth was heavy on me, shifting, settling in to increasingly constrict my body and my breathing whenever I moved.
The air seemed too warm, too still, too thin.
And it was terribly silent.
I don’t remember much.
I had to enter some kind of altered state to stay underneath,
in order to keep at bay the fear of being buried alive.
I survived to emerge from my wintering over.
