29 08 13
The time has come
Is it time? the baby omens hoot.
It’s time, their mother replies.
One by one they follow their mother. Finally at ease with flying, the omens leap out of the nest and soar up above the highest branches, becoming unobstructed beneath the moon’s watchful eye.
How will we get there? the baby omens hoot.
We must fly deep, deep, deep into the forest, far from where any creatures roam.
The omens don't like the sound of this, but they trust that their mother will guide them safely. Throughout their short lives they have heard about this trek, this journey, this pilgrimage, but now to finally be doing it makes them feel, all at once, uneasy. It isn't that they think there is any danger they might encounter along the way; rather, partaking in a tradition that has spanned so many generations makes them worry they might be the first to do it wrong.
Will he say anything to us? the baby omens hoot.
That is for him to decide, their mother replies.
And if he looks down at us and speaks, how must we respond?
My children, that is also for him to decide.
The omens glance warily at each other, failing to comprehend how this could possibly be. But their mother would never lead them astray, would she? All they can do is trust her.
And when we greet him, they hoot after a long spell of silence, how must we address him?
I told you, that is for him to decide.
And if it’s not? If he leaves it up to us?
Their mother dives down into a thicket of trees, artfully avoiding their jagged branches. When they all have landed, she counts each of them and sighs. If you insist, then call him by his name, she said. Call him Totem.
14'' [36 cm]
jaws edition [limited to 200 pieces]
pain edition [limited to 200 pieces]
loser black edition [limited to 200 pieces]