Anticline

Plucked from the ground, we flew over the landscape. In the blink of an eye everything has changed. A hundred-meter chasm extends below us. We suddenly fall into a vortex. The machines, which appear to us as prehistoric creatures, have taken control. We are transported, pulled, cut and deposited by rusty shovels choreographed by hydraulic rods, under the vibration of the engines that impose the rhythm and accelerate the time.