----- Cinema - (Life) ---- edited
3 months and 4 days ago -----
If fallen out of grace.
The morning reluctantly lets me breath its fresh air.
My body shakes to the rhythm of my heart. My lungs are leading the band.
This is my last day here. I have to empty the room now. Easy one, sleeping on my sleeping bag to avoid touching the bed, using a fold-out bag for my clothes.
Mobility. I need to be in between every motion.
I never like places for a long time. Or they have to be huge. Lorca in Nueva York. Van Ostaijen.
I see Clémentine and the magazines crew a last time and hang around with Steve for the rest of the day.
We walk around, visit the castle and enjoy the madness of past Kings and Princes. Visconti on my mind. I'm set free.
Tonight I will print another bunch of photographs.
I have been so focused on acquiring images, on soaking up the imagery with my mind, that i almost neglected handing out pictures.
Wait, I go to Berlin first and come back in two days. To print, re-interpret and mail.
I prefer to send them around.
Exporting Kassel. Its interfaculties. Places you can use while you are here.
Short-films in the evening. So extremely powerful. Enjoyed it. Les Maitres Fous. Damn.
Walking out, I see Buergel.
I think about what he wanted to achieve. If he achieved it.
This certainly isn't the monster-documenta that could only exist as an accumulation of its own past.
A turnaround.
Some skaters practice at a corner.
Pissing against a wall.
Only a few hours left.
