[...]

I just landed, I feel strange, but then there was this instant feeling of belonging.

This conversation is too long for an airport and you forget you are on shift, but that is how it is, I forget too... conversation is essential here.

There is nothing like her coffee...on the balcony, cigarettes, clinging dishes, the neighbor's TV, incessant traffic noise, stories that don't matter, here the doorbell never stops ringing, people come and go, there is no moment of silence, I was home again.

Internal immigration is much more complicated

You realize that there is a clash between you and your thoughts.

You need more than a tree, a stone, a plant, a bird... to make a forest, like a cake, like a tabouleh, like the universe, like you.

They sit with their backs to the mouth of the cave.

They think these shadows are all there is, but they are only poor reflections of the real world. Most people cling to the sensory world.

Some people are content to live among the shadows

It is incomplete knowledge to use only the 5 senses.

Preoccupied with politics

Is landscape political?

There are many things I do not need.

Looking out of the window as the scenes change abruptly, there are no smooth transitions here.

We are almost there. I have never seen dried grass look so alive, endless golden grass meets the blue sky and there are the clouds.

They pass by quietly and gracefully, they have no idea I am there watching them, they make pretty shapes in the sky.

Flowers with the wind, grass with the wind, leaves with the wind, earth with the wind, your hair with the wind, it is a little dance... gossiping, telling stories of the happy, the doomed, the forgotten... stories of fate, giggling and crying.

She read my cup and said that I would meet a woman with long dark hair and a strong character... I will receive a phone call in 4 days with good news, but someone in your house is sick. She leaves... and I wait for things to happen.

I forget, then I remember, always in this oscillation with time.

He found his gold watch from a previous life, buried under a tree.

Memories in the form of landscapes, an inner landscape We are our memories, they shape us.

Allow yourself to be part of my diary

Trust in the uselessness of art, it is what it is

Day and night, winter and summer, they are no different

Add a cup of sugar

Make a collection

Be careful of the word "I", she used to say.

To live without the 'I' is to live through the universe, through nature, through others, through the Creator.

These simple things no longer feel simple to me, they are a material representation of something more

complex... emotions, connections, a dialogue with the invisible.

The ruins of my city, surrounded by an endless sea and an endless pink sky. I walk through these stripped, abandoned buildings.

I knew I was dreaming and I decided to stay... 5 more minutes.

My dreams are often a loop, on repeat, stuck in an infinite circle of time. What is this strange language coming out of my mouth?

I like it when it smells green and feels pink, it sounds like home.

I like seeing the moon during the day... with the sun, I like that it breaks the rules.

[…]

Excerpts from my diary