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.
The ash-clouds of the volcano Puyehue darken the sky during the day,
wrapping the landscape around Bariloche in a magical atmosphere.
sSsSSssssssSSsssssssssssssssSssSSsSss
I met Mike Smolders at the Iberó school in Buenos Aires
