ENTER 
One passage.
Six worlds within.
Step through the serpent’s mouth. Follow a journey through ancestral memory, living forest and changing perception—then face what threatens it all.
The forest holds medicine as well as life. Through art and the voices of its protectors, this passage explores master plants, ancestral knowledge and the connections between healing ourselves, our communities and the Earth.

The first marks in the dark.
A narrow shaft of light finds the carved stone. Figures and animals emerge from the shadows, traces of a relationship with the forest that reaches far beyond one lifetime. The outside world falls away. Here, the journey begins with the simple act of looking closer.

Gather around the fire.
A pot glows at the heart of the room. Vapor rises into luminous patterns, as though light itself were being brewed. This is an encounter with the medicine of the forest: plants understood as teachers, and knowledge carried through generations of care. Around the fire, the story turns toward healing our relationships with ourselves, our communities and the Earth.

The forest comes close.
Leaves reach out from the painted world. Vines hang overhead. Bird calls, insects and water fill the air, while animals appear among the branches. The forest is no longer a distant landscape: it surrounds you. Stay with its abundance. Remember how it feels to be here.

See yourself within the story.
Ayahuasca is one of many master plants at the heart of this story—a world within a world. Violet light, the ayahuasca mural and recorded Icaros invite a different kind of attention: inward, toward community, and back to the living Earth. In the advanced experience, your silhouette joins the moving light. You become part of a scene about connection, transformation and the possibility of healing.

What happens when it is taken away?
The sound of the forest gives way to machinery. Oil drums, scarred surfaces and images of extraction interrupt the world you have just inhabited. The contrast is immediate. What was alive and close now feels wounded—and the loss is no longer abstract.

What will you protect?
Mirrors catch fragments of your reflection. A shimmer of water-like light crosses the floor, and the room opens into a quieter kind of attention. After the forest, its voices and its wounds, the final image is you. Beyond the last curtain, a bright passage leads back into the world. What will you carry with you?

The journey ends.
The connection stays.
Step back into the light with the forest still present.

TO LIFEBring this encounter
into the world.
Help people experience the forest’s beauty, hear its protectors and feel what is at stake.
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