There aren’t such things as you and me, life and death, past, presence or future. Are there? There is nothing, not even a white space. Until, yes, until our imagination begins to build, rivers and bridges, hills and hikes, vast valleys and seamless seas, only influenced by our inner ideas of how reality should be. Fortunately there are others to disrupt our thinking. Together with them we will be enabled to form a fusion, a third body if you will. Leaving us the freedom to transfuse our declared part of a concept in this body, to rescript all those pieces, ceasing individualism, emerging to a commonly created idea, driven by passion.

An island you can not escape,
A force you can not resist,
A bond of culture and resistance, which you can not cut.

An island from where you see the shore,
Watching the rising of the shadows,
Pleating pages, which veils their writing into cover.

An island too beautiful to be built,
Delighted by nothing, delighted by nothingness.
Often opposed, never extinguished,
Unique for everyone, which will tear you apart.

After six months in this beautiful city,
I finally have to say goodbye.
Just writing that, makes me honestly sad.
But sometimes just not being able to consistently obtain a moment,
makes it even more precious.
Gives you that feeling of having unique connections with the people you meet and the places you go.

The question is just, how you stay in that moment,
without worrying, that you could lose it forever.
Thanks for giving me so many good friends, reviving old friendships
and showing me a total different perspective for life.
I will never forget the endless amount of hospitality,
the Argentinians had for me prepared,
I will never forget how I counted the hundreds of smiles,
I gained during a casual day in the city,
I will never forget the dozens of sunsets and sun risings I saw,
with some of the most inspiring people I’ve met so far.

I will try to keep that incredible vibe in my life.

I have never met a fox before. And there he was,
sitting next to the fence, starring at me, in the middle
of nowhere, fearless, doubtless, so pure.

Seconds became minutes.

And the strong rays of the sun burned my skin relentlessly.
I wasn’t able to breathe, or I thought I wasn’t allowed to.
But somehow I felt save. I felt connected.

Maybe more than ever.

I heard nothing else, but only the weak though wild fizzling wind.
I didn’t move, starred back, until a harsh blow
whirled the dusty ground up and covered me in dust.
As I took my eyes back on the place where the little fox sat,
he has left it already silently. All tracks gone.

Every sunday in the week there is a flea market in San Telmo,
Buenos Aires. That’s actually not such a big secret to share.
The true surprise lies in the things you manage to find. So the
last time I was there, I just found my favorite booth. It was
selling antique cameras, wooden crosses and working guns.

find the story with audio here: You And Me

At some nights I am just sleepless. Not that I am not asleep. I am in between.
My bed becomes a stage for senseless orders of unpredictable dreams.
Observing my boundaries, tearing them down, reestablishing new ones.
Telling me my own story, not being conscious about my subconsciousness.

After cycling through the dusty roads of Patagonia I encountered Mabelle.
Mabelle wears her hair long and is most of the time friendly.
You could call her also openminded, but most of all she’s very brave.
The fact that two dogs were barking at her like crazy
didn’t bother her at all. In the opposite she fought back, when
they came too close to her fence. She knew that those dogs had no chance.

Close to Bariloche I climbed the peak of San Otto in the early morning-hours,
accompanied only by my Leica and the rising heat of the sun.
The ashes of Puyehue would cover the landscape with a fine dress of dust,
telling me a poetic story about who I was and who I am going to be.

Yesterday I had a breakfast at a coffee-house in Villa Crespo,
when all of a sudden this truck appeared – packed with dozens of coffins.
The driver delivered one by one to several houses in the street
and disappeared again. Call-a-coffin.