Jan '05 - Jan '07
What are the chances? In general... for anything. Is everything ”˜prefabricated' or are we more like leaves carried by the wind?
Still think though that life is an accident. A crash. A fall. A chance. A flight. And definitely a fight. that's the charm.
Ever felt you have a secret towards the whole world? Nobody knows it, nobody wants to know it - that's what makes it so sweet. Maybe it's not that much about having a secret but a combination between sailing through the world, unrooted... with no history, no past, no memory and no future. The emails are restrained to ”˜yes, I'm fine' cause some things are just not meant to be written. They deserve better. On your own, wherever life takes you. Nothing that can be shared... something like a secret life.
When it comes to real big chances you don't have any choice: life juts takes over. You can't even say anything, the decisions are taken by the monster inside. He is hungry and needs to be fed.
The unexpected always blows my mind. I mean, you sometimes know that something will happen, even if you can't define what exactly or in which sense it will blow and you are ”˜prepared' for everything, but the real thing always beats the imaginary, in one way or the other. Great words that can't keep their promises.
U know the feeling of not belonging in no place? Just sailing away, with the wind, surprises and dreams, traveling where ever it might get you? No home... homes complicate things but I guess there is a time for everything. Feeling like an airport or a plane (no, I am not on drugs!). like a plane... stopping in airports... staying longer, taking of, flying, returning to old ones and stopping in new ones.
All necessary things fit in a bag: laptop, ipod and camera. Ironically, all necessary things are electronics. Kind of sad... very 21st century. I stopped buying books or saving/collecting things as I can't take them with me. I would have an extra bag of memories. So they get lost. All you can take with you is inside, or on the computer - images and music. and as pictures lie, you remain with the soundtrack.
About the weird connection between the above and architecture: there isn't any.
When visiting a city, it's not about running for toffees, for pictures, ”˜Napoleon was here', but to be able to stop for a minute and pretend for one evening you are actually living there. Doing something ordinary, something you would do in ur home, to relax, off track. For me this is the only way to understand it, to feel the pulse.
Likewise for me the ”˜secret' (this isn't the most appropriate word) is to let architecture go, to be able to forget about it once in a while, to relate to something else and implicitly to think in a another way.
And since I am in BCN, I will go look/search for the city...