I’m more and more haunted by hauntings. Less so when they’re from the past. More so by those that are from the future. Wishes, dreams, and visions, that I left on my desks, scribbled down (if at all) without so much as a form. Only some words for a place to be, well, to exist. I don’t know where to start has never been a good enough reaction to their heartbroken looks and whispers in broken voices. Write us a home, give us a room of our own, something. And so I start. A sentence here and there. A frame on which they can sit and stretch their bodies. Now I am the one with the heartbroken look on my face, one or two tears falling down my cheek. Whispering an apology that calms the Haunting of my soul.
EN-MD
about direction, trust & adventures
„A door once opened may be stepped through in either direction.” — Madame de Pompadour (Doctor Who)
But of course, there are not just the obvious two directions.
What role does the heart and the mind play when we step through?
We may go straight forward but if our hearts and minds are still in the hallway or room our body left; the forward-moving direction doesn´t really matter. We´ll be wading through fog and mudd.