Preserved in soil, the container of the ancient world, radicles sprout against the force of gravity. Grounds where the lost seedling became a tree, then a forest, which in its turn got sacrificed and became real estate, to feed mouths and provide a roof over ones head. This ground once a living entity, forming a subterranean body, consisting out of reticular networks, made up of roots and mycelium better known as the WWW 'Wood World Web', determined the way we perceive this world. Our ways of reasoning started when the ancient ones known as The Fates started weaving this netlike fabric.

The first fibres bursted into being after The Fates treated the dried out radicles with holy water. Using the water from the well Urðarbrunnr they brought into being the root of our civilization. The roots where guided by the loving hands of The Fates and steadily grew into a large substructure forming the foundation, the tree of life. The tree always branched into two equal parts, bearing a fruit that divide also our thinking into two equal parts. One day past. One night past. Both they ate in the garden of endless botany. Both got equally sick causing their nuclei to fall apart. Their fractured bodies shattering in sections of classification. All sense was lost until the synapses started regenerating, restoring older connections. Generations passed. Passed on blood, spread blood and shed blood. The tree received its needed nutrients. Dark got to be light. The fruit was not to forgive full.

All feel the connections but externalizes the discomfort. The fabric became so rich and dense that one seems to be alone. Well, our family tree had to start somewhere. The seedling began as one, became plural and became one again. Binary; coded language, dense as the ancient forests themselves. Only they who understand, the writers of the system. Who inscribe your body with illegible symbols that appear to serve you. All this coming up through the cracks in the soil. From a hidden crevice ivy covers the though and stiff bark. Unraveling the pathways, overrunning the past track, the radical does use the available structure to form its own story. Feeding on the given information the radical knows it does not need to reinvent. Covering past stems, a new light shines through or rather a new world of shadows lives on.