The Landscape comes at us from every direction. It comes at us in every way, It rushes at our eyes, hurtling toward the retina… at the speed of the light. It batters at our ears, rattling down our ear canal… at the speed of sound. Inhale, and within a quartes of a second the landscape is at our olfactory bulb. Sometimes we have the feeling that the landscape is … out there, but it is not; it is in our eyes and ears, up our nose and down our throat. It rubs our feet and caresses our cheeks. When things are just right, it plays with our hair, tickles the back of our neck, sends shiversrunning up and down our spine. It is not out there anywhere; it is rigth here, in our face.

Denis Wood, The Spell of the Land (1995)


Andrei Tarkovsky, Stalker (1979)


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