Mornings in London

How people think it s like

How it actually is

You have to be an idiot and lie. If you go to the ticket office first, you even jump the queue without being hated, cause after it doesn't make sense to go back, but wait from that point, which is closer to the gates. You have to push others so you can make it in time. Those who are more relaxed are either working for a long time in the company or their boss is fairly flexibile with the arrival time. The rest of us is pushing, smelling the less taller's hair while the taller smell ours. Some even enjoy accidentally touching each other. That s why they stop apologizing. Some girls were having such a laugh yesterday at their breasts touching, it wouldn t have surprised me if they started kissing. Are the drivers porn movie directors or people using the tube just desperately single? I can tell you that most of londoners are using head and shoulders as a shampoo, nina ricci and floral essences in general. Or maybe just marketers? You can also be loyal and come to the same wagon at about the same time if you want to enjoy the same peeps. Also, if you feel a bit angry at your life you just wait until someone steps on your feet, it will obviously happen, and then start screaming and create a conflict where you talk about lack of manners.

Interstellar

When I get back home, I listen to the sounds of our cosmos. I do this in order to feel sane. I read some updates from Voyager on the Nasa website or scroll through images that are being sent into space. I'm closing my eyes, listening to this record, knowing that other civilisations can hear it as well. How does an alien look like. Why didn't they kidnap me so far? Does an alien sometimes watch me wax my legs? I wonder if I listen to this too, same me from another dimension, where I chose differently, so everything is different. Same me who is in her grandmother's arms now. Same me holding her newborn child. Same me watching the sunset from the top of the highest mountain. Same me taking DMT with a shaman. Same me being wrapped up in an old love story. Same me fighting for the refugees. Music that is in interstellar space,yeah, I am there as well too and this keeps me awake. Most importantly, I know that we are floating in cosmos, surrounded by other planets, galaxies, forms of life. I need to remember this when I'm being asked to be rational. I need to remember this when I set myself rules. People are acting as if everything has an order and they explain magic through accidents. I feel pity for what we've become. I wake up in the morning, I put my clothes on, I take the bus, I go to work, I work in front of a computer, by the time I finish I'm too tired to enjoy anything, then I go to bed. I'm looking at people in the tube and they do the same. I know it. If I tell you I had to be late for work because I stopped to smell the flowers you will say I'm mad. If I tell you I was late for work because I helped an old lady who didn't know how to get to Greenwich you'll tell me that I don't mind my priorities. Well, these things I'm being called mad for, they make me feel alive. I feel they are right, not the job, not the routine. I don't believe in black and white, I believe in greys. I want to wake up and enjoy the sun, enjoy the morning, thank the birds for singing for me. I want to travel, talk to people, learn their customs, explain mine. I want to write. I want to give people emotions. I want to write and photograph until I bleed. Until the end of the world. Somebody stepped on my foot yesterday and APOLOGIZED, I turned around and smiled, said it's ok, if it makes you feel better you can step on the other one too. She looked at me as if I'm mad. You're fucking mad. Wake up. Open your eyes in the Penelope's, Vanilla Sky voice. The twin Voyager 1 and 2 spacecraft are exploring where nothing from Earth has flown before. Continuing on their more-than-37-year journey since their 1977 launches, they each are much farther away from Earth and the sun than Pluto. In August 2012, Voyager 1 made the historic entry into interstellar space, the region between stars, filled with material ejected by the death of nearby stars millions of years ago. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? Jupiter

Saturn

Neptune

Uranus

These images are carried out on phonographs in space, The contents of the record were selected for NASA by a committee chaired by Carl Sagan of Cornell University, et. al. Dr. Sagan and his associates assembled 115 images and a variety of natural sounds, such as those made by surf, wind and thunder, birds, whales, and other animals. To this they added musical selections from different cultures and eras, and spoken greetings from Earth-people in fifty-five languages, and printed messages from President Carter and U.N. Secretary General Waldheim.

Listen to the Voyager Golden Record.Complete version audio and images. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEzcFXRKHUw

Stories from the Victoria line

I went the other day to see an irrational man by myself and then I wrote about it.

The title is a book by William Barrett, a general guide to existentialism. I was waiting for great lines, the kind of quotes I would like to share on Facebook or write them on my real walls. Then I hoped for a Hollywoodian end to my main character's boredom, but unfortunately I couldn't even believe the love story; it lacked magic, so cliche has infiltrated, a bit film noir in the way characters are trying to contemplate their life through emotional or moral logic. A bored wife who is looking for someone to save her and a teenager who is looking for herself, both are interested in the philosophy teacher long before they meet due to his publications. After being introduced they are looking at ways to save him, while slowly falling for him. Imagine the depressed, drunk version of Don Juan who talks in Heidegger quotes, smelling like vodka, in his Zabriskie point. What saves the teacher is the idea of murdering someone who has hurt someone else in turn, a murder of revenge that hasn't been committed by anyone affected. Even if the victim is a stranger, he still feels this is the opportunity that fate gave him to make justice in this unfair universe. The universe that took his wife away from him and the universe that is so blatant. Why he puts it on fate is because of how he was introduced to the situation, which is merely sitting down at a table with his favourite student whom he doesn't want to hurt deliberately. Fate is what happens and existentialism is what you do with it. Just like philosophy, the perfect crime is good in theory, because eventually police finds someone else guilty, point where things change again. If the movie ended with him committing the crime, without trying to also kill the girl, I would have asked myself serious questions, I could have gone as far as saying that I understand the character, the way his mind worked. I could see how this was his fatalist way to rebalance the universe, the ultimate existentialist act. Emma built her character making it too obvious that she knew the script beforehand. The character's confidence throughout the film was a spoiler for their connection as I always felt that something will happen between them, which did. Come on, Woody, convince me this story is just platonic. There was no magic either. The idea that he was feeling happy again and positive just because he was thinking about murdering someone gets me back to an old conclusion: in order to know someone for real you would need to know the reason for their actions, not their actions. Ironically, the object that saves her from death is the lantern she chose as a prize when he wins for her, picking a number at random. We have freedom and we are responsible for our choices, but eventually fate comes in, so how much is what we decide and how much is what is decided?

Sunday mornings

Sunday mornings with friends.

Duality

We define feelings and give them names and put them into categories. We have names for almost everything and that's good, because this is how we understand each other, but it can also be bad because there are still objects and feelings that haven't been discovered yet. Soon we will run out of words, so when we will discover new feelings they will be expressed only with short sounds like a TTTTTTTTT or a SSSSSSS. I mean when you feel it, you just start TTTTTTTTing at the person in a high note or low note, both meaning different things. And soon we will run out of sounds, so nothing new will be verbalised, we will have to stop talking because we concluded words are not enough. We will try to find an escape in art, everyone will get back to drawing and painting and taking photographs. Nothing will be good or bad anymore. When people will be violent to each other, the onlookers will start taking photos with flash so they will disturb them and eventually make them stop. Reinventing language.

Hard times

Everyone likes to sit alone on the bus. Nowadays it's so hard to find two seats next to each other, as if all the single people have rised against couples, protesting against love.