top of page
Long were the shadows when the sun hung low and heavy, drowsy from a long day or wary of the next. And fine were the lines at the outer rims of the color spectrum. This world was far from black and white, but some of its stories were best told colorless.
If we were colorblind creatures, we wouldn’t miss a thing. We wouldn’t miss what we wouldn’t see. Of course, we’d be missing out beyond imagination, but for all practical purposes, we’d be looking at things with the same eyes.
glimpse: GOOSEBUMPS OF OUR PRIME | Half way there, half way here, some road ahead, some in the mirror. Every fork the right way. No desert wasteland wasted on us. Passion reactors, fueled by horizon hopes and longings to linger, bound to burst. Destination none. Freedom encounters. Don’t need a thing, much less everything. Dreams yes, love perchance. Bright light leaving dark marks under our skin. Friendly risks, more firsts than lasts, pain painted over. Goosebumps of our prime.
glimpse: MUNDANE MOMENTUM | Every day untold ordinary moments move right past us, fading into one another unconsidered. Only once we stop, stripping our busy minds down to mere awareness, we catch up with the enthralling momentum of the mundane and in-between blinks our omnipresent obliviousness is fast forgotten. In other words: crossing Boulevard René Lévesque in Montreal.
glimpse: THE LAST RAYS | I was trying to find my way out of the labyrinth that the Medina of Fes threw at my feet and senses, while the last rays pierced the narrow alley-twists. So low now in the sky, the sun lent just enough light to freeze this moment in time beautifully before calling it a day. Teasing the nearing night whose black melts all into one, the far star cut silhouettes from the gloom, creating one last outline for the street’s characters to tell their stories.
Bonn / Germany · 2018 electrified
Jagdish Temple, Udaipur / India · 2015 hypnotic Hinduism
bottom of page