Van den vos (About Reynard the Fox)
The mist hangs in thick banks over the vegetation. In the dim light we see time slip by. Something shoots past the plants and disappears again. The mist thickens and fills the forest with a dense blanket of cloud until all that is left is a solid, white mass. Lost, he steps through this smog, groping his way through the wood. The wood creaks and whispers. He wades through the ferns and cautiously calls a name. It sounds like: “Vos!†and “Vos?†- “Fox!†and “Fox?â€. And the ferns whisper with him. And he can barely see a hands-breadth in front of his eyes in the fog which envelops him like a thick blanket.
Performances