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The powerful echo of bomber engines obscures the scream of the falling live flesh. In his earphones, the pilot hears the echoes of radio noise, and feels the perturbations of the bomber changing its altitude. Muscular guys with stony faces have quickly handled the affair above the jungle drowning in the dusk. The pilot curtly informs the base: mission complete. The jungle echoes when the live falling flesh is torn at the collision with lianas and tree branches. The startled birds soar up and the beat of the wings echoes high above. The baboons shriek in parallel with the echoes of bloody cannibal rituals in the thicket. The sounds of violence pierce the jungle. The echoes are the only substance remaining at the shed of blood. All those dead and tortured transform into one loud echo of the world. Echo is the ghostly face of the world. Dirty sound of this tape is a tribute to things remaining after the bloodiest crimes. Their only testimony is the echoes and not some bloody Amnesty International’s declaration. Lim. E 100. (autarkeia)


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Weight 0,20 kg