the trap of our generation

While my computer was doing it's best to save me from my own actions, by trying to shut itself down or slow down my tiping..it was already too late.
I too have fallen into the trap we call facebook.
After rejecting it, trying to save my last piece of internet-anonymity..
This is the end.
But wait, let me save just a little of it, let me bury some of it just in case we hit new romanticism and start writing real letters to strangers again. Just not to spoil it with the abililty to type my name and find everything:

photograph by Hugh Burke

two men with one hat

One night, in a narrow Amsterdam street
I saw two men sitting on a doorstep.
In a flash, I saw they had the same hat on.
Which looked ridicilous in a way,
and because of that, really cool.
So I pushed Hugh back to them,
so he could take a picture
(of course, always when something interesting
is going on, I don't have a camera with me).

Their english was bad, my russian is worse.

Somehow, with a little of everything,
they managed to explain how they
ended up in Amsterdam. Accidentally,
right here when they were passing through,
their car broke down.

"And so now... (Russian points at beer)"

and the hats? "two for one price!"
They laughed. We laughed.

1..2..3..FLASH
there you are

spasiba spasiba!


(click..)
photographed by Hugh, next to de Buurvrouw in Amsterdam.
Flash held by me.
check http://www.flickr.com/hughburke

typical.

and makes me smile.

what I found in my sent messages

email/ 29th of September 2008/ after Gent

"you told me to take a picture for you
so I did
in a pretty little street in Gent, with colourful houses
close to the station
where you can also find a modernist school
and a front door
with a letter taped to it
and when I read it, I though of the crazy Belgians
and of you, because you would have liked it,
that it was there, taped to a front door"



"we are born crying,
we live complaining,
and we die dissapointed."
(optimistic thought of the week)

VIVA LA REVOLUTION

*click on photograph to enlarge

when there is little left to rebel against
you create fictive revolution
a film in progress..
by the lovely Marie Mart

Dusty balkan town

Where even the wind is hot, and streets are empty because people hide in dark fresh rooms.
Where everything looks dusty and pale because of the sun.
Where bored people work in grey, airconditioned stores and offices, untill two.
Where concrete buildings and colourful houses with flowers share streets.
Where ˝green grass˝ is not a pleonasm.

Welcome to Cakovec. A little town in the north of Croatia, between the Slovenian and Hungarian border.
Where I come back every year. Ah, family..

Where the only way to make it through the day, is armed.

With camera´s

rooftop sessions

we had sun, grapes, tea ("aghumhum...no, eh, beer, we had beer of course" she convincingly lied) and instruments
we were sitting on a rooftop
we had fun
and I bet you could still hear that
if you made us play you something

elle illustration

yes it took me very long
but oh how I loved it
Now let's hope Elle loves it too

p.s. it looks better outside blogspot though..

strange encounters

Flipping through photographs, meaning to start this blog in a completely different and far more funky way, I stumbled upon this picture.
A picture that reminds me of last autumn and lonesome walks through the lovely city of Gent. When a couple, out of nowhere, started telling me complete nonsens, right there on the street, nonsens I unfortunately can´t remember. And she said she never had a picture of him. And asked me to make one. He said he didn´t want me to, but started posing as soon as I pointed my camera at him.
I could smell alcohol on her as she got really close. Too early in the afternoon. She said her kids would write me to ask for the pictures. They never did.

When they left the police called me over to their car. Did I still have my wallet. Shit. Oh but, yes I did.