the recipe

But I guess the question is what did I learn along the way. Definitely that I’m not cut out to survive the existing workaholic gene. It’s a genetic predisposition that tends to drive you to your demise, or at least me – but I know the cure. It’s just a matter of being a good patient and taking my therapy. The doctor’s orders? A healthy dose of sports, a balanced diet of work, hobbies and people, and regularly changing my surroundings. Mental hygiene.

where i am

It took a series of a week in Holland, a week of chilling in Belgrade, a 170 km weekend of biking to Arandjelovac, a week at the coast, 4-day 400 kilometer solo bike ride, a 5-day escape to a volunteer photo camp and friend, climbing the highest mountain in Serbia – by bike, and getting on a bus to the coast – only to sigh a sigh of relief. That is how bad I allowed myself to get. I haven’t even been to this blog page in a long time. At least I got back to the road, to photography. To doing things with people.

as the rain falls...

... on a day before (an) easter, i once again pause to think about how much i miss people, meaningful conversation, how much work and solitude have become my life (at least for the moment), how much i miss people i haven't spoken to in months, others i haven't really seen since last summer... and i ask myself - is it all really worth it? no. it isn't.
here's to you, dear friend. i'm looking forward so seeing you sooner, rather than later...

going and going...

sometimes you sit still... you sit still and imagine places. the places i imagine i've seen from above... i've flow over them and found the gaps in civilization... i have found the green patches where few have been and fewer venture... i long for them.

i've been sitting in my armchair all day, eating oranges with the television on. stories of other people's lives going by... interpretations, excerpts, spins, cultures, intimacy... all those are memories that i recall as being once part of daily life, presently replaced by keyboards, screens, dictionaries and a lot, a lot of internet. even now, as i sit in the semi-darkness, i am still only looking out of Windows into the world.

and longing today even for a ride down the street, round the corner, beneath the railroad tracks, up the river and away... into the green.

looking in the window...

looking out onto the road. longing for the asphalt, the wind and the miles. breathing slowly, heart still pounding... just longing... longing so much... for this road.

blankness...

it's not that i have no substance, but i have not essence. life has become a two-month marathon work project that has me simply dismissing the existence of anything other than translation. i've started to quite actively although effectively hating my computer, just wishing to spend time away from it (but that doesn't get me any closer to the goal of freedom)... i'm developing the physical syndromes of overworking myself - impaired focus ability and the damn tennis elbow... and the race is not even close to being over...

i've always been cautious in my profession...
and then i overdid it. and i kept overdoing it. and now i'm overdone.

and there's no getting out. the only way it getting down.
so i try to get up, try to keep to the side.
try to look ahead, not look behind and trust the person i distrust the most

- myself.