Do not know how to define it, how to tame such wild stallion.
Time, it goes, it vanishes. Never come back.
Only in echo, smiles of that midnight sun party, smell of a christmas dinner.
The summer of visions is over.
A fist of sand . . .
Thanks to Malin and Terje Hellesø for for their hospitality, warmth, unforgettable moments, conversations, lessons learned, lessons of light and life, and above it all, thanks from the bottom of my heart for your priceless friendship. The time continues its march, but you both forever in my heart.
By creating images, I couldn't think of another intention, but that of a powerful and perhaps naive attempt of catching the moment, the scene, that fugitive group of things that compose the memories. To fight against the corrosive and unstoppable destructive effect of the time, the transient time, a time that leave nothing but vague strokes, maybe even lies, shrouded by a thick layer of oblivion and uncertainty. I yearn no visual language, no coherent speech, but just to create, to invent testimonies that could represent the map that might lead back to that lost geography, the past.