How do these wretched things maintain the continuity of the story? Or perhaps—even worse for the hero—how can these concave, excavated things, these holes in Being, generate richer, more peculiar, more abundant, more inadequate and continuous stories from the beginning? Stories that have space for the hunter, but that were not and are not about him, the self-producing Human, the human-producing machine of history. The slight curvature of the shell that contains only a little water, only a few seeds to give and receive, suggests stories of becoming-with, of reciprocal induction, of companion species whose task in living and dying is precisely not to end the storytelling, the world-making. With a shell and a net, becoming human, becoming humus, becoming earth takes another form: the sinuous and serpentine form of becoming-with.
Sowing worlds. A seed bag for terraforming with terrestrial alterities.
Donna Haraway
