Women, placed in various forestal landscapes, are talking in different languages as if they were filled with the spirit of the woods. This spirit is dying, for a long time nobody seems to be listening to his crying. Hatchets and saws are cutting into the tree-trunks, working their way through faces. This is the famous sawing off of one’s own branches. The species man is felling itself. The saw in one’s head overpowers the cry of the earth. Voices are shouting in vain against the noise of splintering wood and raging saws.