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They are among us. And they greatly outnumber us. Three thousand billion individuals, grouped in millions of communities, organised into authentic nations. But we hardly notice their presence. They - trees - in their communities - the forests - live, grow, die and regenerate in silence. But more than ever before, we realise that we can’t do without them.

“All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town”. In this short phrase, presumed to have been written in the late 19th century, Lev Tolstoj sums up a timeless and universal law: stories, all stories, whether personal or collective, begin with movement, a journey to somewhere or an arrival from somewhere. All in all, a border crossing.

Humus starts its journey by looking at the ground, on which not only our feet but also our homes, cities, factories and roads stand; and where orchards, wheat fields and woods spread their roots. Our whole existence is based on that which may seem just a surface, but which in fact is much more. Because it has a thickness, a depth, a history and a very intense life.