9 sept city

9th of september and i say leave a trace of your thoughts write i was in the bus 2 days ago thinking about a memory and then said to myself i should write this until i forget it until it starts decomposing in my mind but i didnt even believe myself when thinkin that. the memory became just a frame that got stuck into my mind making me think, as so many times recently, that love and affection are a form of illness. a form of being stuck like an animal in a trap. your helpless look. your random moves, trying to escape it. your dreamy eyes when you think of something that is not here with pain and desire.

one of the first days in bucharest today. walked a lot. sometimes feels like a battle field. it s grey and violent and intense. poisoned. gas and noise. loads of noise. the main street, magheru, feels so heavy. very hard to handle. when you walk through it, you have to shout, the sound of the cars is too strong. and there s fogg, things look misty cus of the pollution. a walk through magheru and you need a retreat. streets are underconstruction everywhere. you hear the sound of machines breaking cement, and this is mixed with the sound of cars and claxons, and alarms. people s faces are dark brown and frowned. some of them seem lost. there was an old lady from the countryside near nottara theatre, the kind of very skinny old ladies with black clothes and a black scarf (basma?) on her head. she looked at me grabbed my hand and shouted ”where are we?”. ”we are near piața romana”, i shouted back. ”i want to go down the hill to universitate” she shouted. i pointed the direction. ”just keep on walking!! keep on walking in that direction and you will see it!!” she seemed frightened. i had to give her a little push in that direction. ”i will go down there and i will see it, right?” said she, already moving. ”right.” and i waved my hand. she looked as confused as in the beginning and then she dissapeared in the crowd.
i sort of like this intense heavy feeling. i breath in and feel the dust gas ans smell of sweat. feel dizzy. gives you quite a high. can t compare it with other drugs. feels stronger and better than the dreamy hippie amsterdam. maybe also because i m not a hippie anymore. i don t wanna feel The Love anymore.

discovered a beautiful artist 2day, her name is yașam șașmazer. she is from turkey and she makes these weird wooden painted sculptures, child-size children like these




(this is called ”beautiful as my mother”)


(this is called ”strong as my father”)

(”bloody fruit”)

source

also discovered a beautiful artist at the ADM festival in Amsterdam some days ago. his name is yann keller and his music fits bucharest so well. he built this instrument called the steelbass. and makes sound installations like this
- and this sound is bucharest