Monique Bestenis creating new stories (or more accurate: finding them)
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we are all walkers
I recently walked home from a beautiful place where I spent a month working on a new project. I walked for 3 days and 75 km. leaving a trail of Cosmos bipinnatus Daydream seeds. I carried 10.000 seeds with me, some were still in my pockets when I came home. I will send you 10 of those seeds.
a nice stroll
You will be the first one to hear about exciting new developments, get an invitation for any art project I am involved in and I might send you some of my writing that i haven't published yet. I will send you 10 Cosmos Daydream seeds from my recent 3 day walk. And always welcome for tea/coffee and a chat.
About Monique Besten
Writing has always been central in my work and this year my wandering takes place on paper, in the computer and in my mind. I am writing a book about walking and setting up my Bureau of Slow Endeavours (BurSE). I'd like to invite you to accompany me on that walk, to be walking partners, to make it possible for me to create my stories and return them to you.
In the past I've been writing stories and articles that have been published online and in printing. Some of it and documentation of all my walks can be found here:
A Soft Armour (Barcelona - Paris)
A Soft Armour (Amsterdam - Vienna)
A Soft Armour (Amsterdam - Marseille)
A Soft Armour (108 days)
Walking with trees (Spanish border - Montserrat Mountains)
Keep an eye on my daily/weekly notes and stories here: Exercises in Being Here
We meet and we continue on our travels but our roads keep crossing, old roads crossing new roads, walking in each other’s footsteps, meeting people knowing people we once lived around the corner from. We say the world is small but it isn't. We are small. And the world is big. But we look for each other, we need each other. We want to be connected. And the world gives us what we want. We see each other in people passing by, in newspapers, books. In bridges, trees, airplanes. We touch each other by looking at the sky, by listening to the winds, the cars rushing by. We leave traces, marks, memories, we are everywhere.