Once again, the venue hosting us is opening its doors to a public performance for the very first time. This journey is allowing us to discover precious spaces where the fruits of our relationships unfold gently. In this mental health care centre, the force of life appears to me in the form of the chords of a song from my teenage years, which a patient of my own age strums on the guitar whilst I prepare for the scene. One cannot remain alone. For a good half of the performance, I am bathed in the very same sunlight under which the man was playing, and it is a new experience, an opportunity for interpretation that resonates with the words of the testimony. With the dazzling light of the Garni Temple in Armenia and the evaporation of the pools at Fish Slough amongst the desert highlands of eastern California. Lorries pass along the country road cutting through the countryside beside us, and aeroplanes fly overhead on their descent to the nearby airport on the outskirts of the city. Even their sound seems right to me; it does not disturb me. They blend into the musical score, taking on a dimension of meaning that brings to light the complexity of the interstitial space we are inhabiting – between the spring bursting forth in the fields around us and the explosions of fossil fuel combustion within the pistons and cylinders criss-crossing the countryside. The words of simpler emotions, long past, sung by others, resurface: the car is warm, and does it decide where it takes you?