3 minutes/Víctor knows it all/Ode to Sam Pt. 3

I'll always remember the day I met Sam. It was actually by night in Beijing, but probably noon on our side of the world. I didn't take pictures of her when it happened, which I regret; if there's one moment in my recent past that I would have liked to keep captured, that's the first few words I exchanged with Sam.

I invited her to come and stay with me in Barcelona 3 minutes into our introductory conversation, if my memory serves me right. When you feel it, you feel it, they say. Intuition would beat science any day, and Sam would beat you all any day, as well.

All pictures taken between 4th and 5th September 2016 around downtown Barcelona, Spain. Special thanks to Víctor, and extra special thanks to Sam Jam because she's still the most amazing human being on the Milky Way although she doesn't know yet, and we'll be friends minimum until our 80s and we have telepathy. 

The Ballad of Goodman John/Ode to Sam Pt. 2

On a normal day or so it seemed

John went to work, on a day that beamed. 

He opened the shop and emptied the bins 

But saw some men, looking in. 

Oh John, you have to look them in the eye, 

But that cold sharp steel, 

It doesn’t lie. 

Cautiously approaching, he asked them why, 

In shear suspicion, they’re passing by. 

Grudgingly, they went away 

And didn’t return again all day. 

Goodman John, Goodman John, are you a hero of a man? 

Goodman John, Goodman John, are you a hero of a man? 

Or are you just a fool, 

Who doesn’t understand? 

Goodman John. 

Oh John, you have to look them in the eye, 

But that cold sharp steel, 

Doesn’t lie.

At nine o’clock, dark figures appeared, 

They ganged up with weapons, attacked and jeered. 

By half past nine, all till cash gone 

And so was the air 

From the lungs of John, 

From the lungs of John, 

From the lungs of John.

Goodman John, Goodman John, are you a hero of a man? 

Goodman John, Goodman John, are you a hero of a man? 

Or are you just a fool, 

Who doesn’t understand? 

Goodman John. 

Oh John, you had to look them in the eye 

And that cold sharp steel,

It didn’t lie.

Goodman John, Goodman John, are you a hero of a man? 

Goodman John, Goodman John, are you a hero of a man? 

Or are you just a fool, 

Who doesn’t understand? 

Goodman John. 

Goodman John. 

Goodman John. 

All pictures taken on 15th January 2017 somewhere around Bexley, Kent, England, United Kingdom. Special thanks to the great Derek Preston and extra special thanks to Sam Jam because, on top of all her well-known awesomeness, she's also a genius lyric-writer, and her birthday should be celebrated as one of the greatest landmarks and feats of humanity.

Long et absurde

"Ne suis-je pas moi même long et absurde?"

Toutes les photographies prises le 18 septembre 2017 près de Montmartre, Paris, France. Merci spécialement à Gilles pour être très long et très absurde.

Père Lachaise, Iggy Pop, Victor Noir et Barbara

"And alien tears will fill for him

Pity's long-broken urn.

For his mourners will be outcast men

And outcasts always mourn."

Lu à la tombe de Oscar Wilde dans le Cimetière du Père Lachaise, cité de son The Ballad of the Reading Goal (1904).

Toutes les photographies prises le 18 septembre 2017 au Cimetière du Père Lachaise, Paris, France. Merci spécialement à Barbara pour présente-moi à Jim Morrison, Allan Kardec, Honoré de Balzac, Hubertine Auclert, Frédéric Chopin, Ingres, Molière, Édith Piaf, Marcel Proust, Yves Montand, Jane Avril, la famille Cretin, la famille Sauvage, les Illuminati, Victor Noir, les communistes et Iggy Pop. 

Inhale, in hell, there's heaven

Me pregunto qué se debe de sentir cuando la gente escucha una canción tuya y se cree que sabe quién eres. Se cree que sabe por lo que estás pasando. En 4 minutos 27 segundos te retrataste tan bien que, ahí estás, esa es tu vida hasta la fecha, y ellos lo ven porque te vieron y se vieron a sí mismos. Todo va sobre ellos, nada sobre ti, nunca sobre ti, siempre sobre ellos. Entonces me pregunto, aclarando eso último, superado el halago rebotado, ahora que sabes de qué van, me pregunto, ¿qué se siente? ¿Qué se siente cuando lo único que ven de ti es a sí mismos?

I wonder how does it feel when people listen to a song of yours and they think they know who you are. They think they know what you're going through. In 4 minutes 27 seconds you portrayed yourself so well that there you are, that's your life to date, and they see it because they saw you and saw themselves. Everything is about them, nothing about you, never about you, always about them. Then I wonder, having set that clear, being over the ricocheted compliment, now that you know what they're about, I wonder, how does it feel? How does it feel when the only one thing they see about you is themselves?


All pictures taken on 10th March 2017 around the U-Bahn (U1), Hamburg, Germany. Special thanks to Guillermous for teaching me all I know about music.

Science can't prove itself

"La mayor parte de los hombres no quieren nadar antes de saber. ¿No es ésto espiritual? ¡No quieren nadar, naturalmente! Han nacido para la tierra, no para el agua. Y, naturalmente, no quieren pensar; como que han sido creados para la vida, ¡no para pensar! Claro, y el que piensa, el que hace del pensar lo principal, ese podrá acaso llegar muy lejos en ésto; pero ese precisamente ha confundido la tierra con el agua, y un día u otro se ahogará." 

"Most men don't want to swim before knowing. Isn't that spiritual? They don't want to swim, naturally! They were born for the land, not for the water. And, naturally, they don't want to think; as they've been created for life, not for thinking! Of course, and he who thinks, who makes of thinking the priority, he will perhaps be able to go far on that; but he precisely has confused land with water, and one day or another he will drown." 

Hermann Hesse on Der Steppenwolf (1955), as recommended by my unbeatable father.

At this party, I learned that there's only one thing that science can't prove, and that is itself. Therefore, if science can't prove its own veracity, it must be assumed that it can't prove anything else's, and there goes all human history from the Enlightenment to this very day up in flames, down to ashes. Science is, after all, just like God but uglier and colder. Science is exactly like God but without a face to come to at night in a dream or a prayer. At least God looks at me when I look at Him first. Just when we thought we got rid off God, they gave us science.

At this party I also learned that babies can die of a lack of affection. I met people far more talented than me in every possible field of knowledge, far freer, far fuller than I will ever be. At this party I learned so much. In a way, I wish I still was at that party, I still feel like I never left. The perfect feeling of that party still chases after me. The perfect rain of Hamburg keeps calling. I'm sad now. 

All pictures taken on 12th March 2017 around Bundesstraße, Hamburg, Germany. Special thanks to Sahar for being the fucking master of the universe, hardest worker and hardest player I've ever met, and also to my bruh bruh, for being far too kind. Thanks to Bea for her awesome camera and inspiring pictures, as well as to Alicia, Andrzej, Stefan and Edu for one of the most life-changing conversations and priceless hospitality.