After recovering from a long illness I started searching through the shores and woods. I finally managed to locate Mr. Anderzén in the middle of an arctic desert. He sat there cross legged, eyes closed, calm as if on top of a mountain or in the bottom of the sea. No trees nor any other objects apart from ourselves interrupted the plain white landscape. Sun dragged itself slowly over the horizon. The air was still. My retreat will soon be over. His husky voice seemed to emerge from the field of snow itself. I didnt see his lips moving. As I asked about the last nine months he had been away he mumbled something about contemplation. Remember what Cocteau wrote in Opium about revealing the essence of plants? - I have gained sights of that different kind of speed of vegetation and I have heard the screams of plants he talked about. After six long days of silence spent mostly eating drought reindeers meat Mr A. talked again: I had this strangest of dreams. There was no space, no people, no traces of action, just this plasmoid machine out of which erupted sounds. And then as I was receiving those aural secretions of an ultra physical automaton from the seventh uppermost world, I woke up due to a butterfly itching in my ear. There I was all covered with sweat, heart beating furiously, yet the ear was empty. It took a long time to be able to sleep after that night. Heed my words dear friends; that butterfly preserved to the ears of ours which werent there is Alkuhärkä. - Ralf Normaali. Highly recommended!