I start going East, 2012

I woke up in a hotel room far north in the southern hemisphere knowing you were somewhere else. In my mind I counted the bullet holes I was exposed to yesterday, but gave up. I went over our conversation – one of many – but couldn’t recount the details that I wanted to remember.

I went over another conversation about bringing back a glimpse of a past – a memory, which wasn’t mine. I continued walking down the streets, which by 8 o’clock at night were empty, and I knew the violent and contemporary history of this place.

I know you told me that life will continue, and it wasn’t even me who’d lost a dear friend in an accident. I wanted to be with you – to try to comfort you – but that night I was too far away, going to bed in a place people think is too dangerous.


I slept quite well.

I sat down and wrote you a letter about the cinemas in Amsterdam where you can drink beer while you watch a movie, while thinking about ways to subdue my senses and to blur the images in my mind.