Wired for stories
One of my earliest memories is me lying on the bed while my dad was reading me a story. It is so early I’m not…
Recent Posts
Out of color
The photos are slowly turning to black and white before my eyes. It’s a cold and windy January. I’ve made it so far. It’s not…
Tombstones and wild flowers
The garden looks as if the gardener has left and never came back, but things have continued to grow according to his plans for a…
Alone in the puppet theatre
I wake up suddenly in a place I don’t recognize. As I lie on my back, I look up and I see colors. Like an…
The story is more than the storyteller
We listen to stories and tell stories as a way of dealing with change, impermanence, fragility and trauma. Stories connect us with the world by…
A lone tree has fallen
These two photos are separated by more than two years and a half. I’ve taken the first one in the spring of 2019 because I…
