A (supposedly) insane man who (supposedly) shot himself and died shortly after, once said that he was seeking and striving. And that he was in it with all of his heart. I thought that once. So long ago that I almost don’t remember what it was like. Long before these photos were taken. Sometimes when I wake up, in that split second before the consciousness catches up with the rest of the reality, before that morning cup of tea and before the realisation of the day ahead filled with the usual tasks which put the bread on the table, in that Planck’s length of time, I sometimes feel that I remember what it is like to breath fire again. But then I open my eyes.
I spent 5 years of my life in these walls: