• Fela Kuti-Kuti

    Sometimes people are just true. Why are some, others not? Logically, it would seem like we should all be true. Because what else is there?   There is the dark side. It is called trying too hard. When people start trying too hard, they fall into the swamps of darkness. Therefore it is so important to move calmly. Because in swamp the more you panic, the more down you go.   Aldous Huxley, author of The Doors of Perception, put it like this: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly… Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them…throw away your baggage and go forward. There…

  • Swahili Boat Builder Saarobo having water poured on him

    Not All Good Things Come To An End

    Sometimes you think it’s over. Moments – gone. Emotions – gone. Memories – fading. And you really think it’s over. So you accept it and move on. And then sometime later you find out, that it’s not over at all.   That’s what happened with my film in Kenya. My rusty soviet Zenit camera jammed and I ripped the film into two pieces by force. With the prying eye of one fine Italian fellow who opened my camera to have a peek what’s up with the roll, it got bombarded by millions of photons. Opened in direct sunlight on a boat on water that reflected most of it back at…

  • A homeless illusionist who is working with a thief.

    Notes from the Underground, part 1.

    The following is an excerpt from my project The Underground. It focuses on man that does not believe in society, living on the edge of it, fighting to stay on the edge of it.   It was the weekend, Saturday or Thursday, weekend for me, anyway. We were tripping with a friend and found ourselves in a bar outnumbered by the crowd. There was a gig that night at the White Elephants, my other friend Ignas, in fact my neighbor too, was on the stage. I took my drinking buddy, my fellow, and showed him and the beers he was carrying the way to the piles of chairs stacked on…

  • One snowy morning in Tallinn Estonia a stranger looks into the window of a home

    Good Morning

    It all started when I began to separate our things into mine and hers. Our joys, toys and laughs that were one, became for two And the spiritual slumber began to take hold.   Words stopped coming out for fresh air. They got stuck deep down in the throat. Needed a serious toilet pump to unclog that shit. To provide an urgent air flow to the heart.   So much for having things, me and you. I burn them now.   They say scars are the jewels of a man, and thus I am a king of the inside, spiritually bloody raw, but an old soul props me up.  …