In 2023, I experienced a rare immersion in unmediated nature in the Pantanal, Brazil. At dawn and dusk, we listened to slow transitions between night and day: bird calls and animal voices emerging from multiple distances, overlapping within a space of striking depth.

This work does not recreate that landscape. It unfolds through acts of recalling and calling—fragments remembered, presences summoned, sounds appearing and dissolving within an expanded sense of time.

The violoncello does not imitate birdsong. Its motifs are newly composed figures—creatures of its own. Set against field recordings from the Pantanal, the instrument enters a fragile dialogue with a living acoustic environment. At times it blends; at times it stands alone—a solitary, vulnerable voice, reminding us of our impact on the environment. At certain moments, the cello’s sound turns into an outcry: not a depiction of a specific bird, but a heightened human gesture within an increasingly threatened acoustic world.