Slow Hand is in town

Oslo, Frogner Stadion:
Eric Clapton has just finished to play his last hit, when some people start walking swiftly away from the mass that still lingers, crams and cries afoot the stage, wishing the old guitarist put his nose out again. I've got my couple of hours of music, standing with feet into a sticky mud, under heavy rainfall. I'm devastated. I'll throw away my jeans in a bin as soon as I'll reach my hotel room. I'll have to get back home tomorrow, before I do the same to my shoes. My watch says it's nearly eleven in the evening. Northern summer magic. I have to hurry: I could miss the last train to Asker.

One third missing ...

Two examples of imperfection

After all, rules have always been made for someone to break them.

Neither fish nor flesh ...

"Well," said Rabbit, after a long silence in which nobody thanked him for the nice walk they were having, "we'd better get on, I suppose. Which way shall we try?"


Sometimes I feel like Rabbit, one of Winnie the Pooh's best friends, in this excerpt. I walk on a path for long time, wishing someone is after me but, then, in a moment of disguise and distraction, I realize that no one is either at my side, nor on my tracks. Neither I dare to say that I wish someone could be waiting for me at the end of the trail. Still, I never give up, as I feel a constant need to find a way to get on ... and dream.
Something like this is happening again in these days of early June: I'm really drowning under a heap of work to do, whereas the heap of things that I'd love to do grows on and on ... They simply heap. I put down notes to stick somewhere and let them get yellow and dusty, day after day, month after month ... year after year.

I haven't been grown and educated in order to be able to manage my time as I should instead, for coping with all the different things I'd like to carry on. The result is this strange kind of feeling of being potentially able to do everything but, when it comes to facts, I throw constantly aside all my passions and projects and bow down my head to work.

I'm in Oslo this week. There are good chances this could be my last week spent in Norway, after six years of traveling up & down. Yet, I've completely wasted three evenings working till late in an empty open space, among cardboard boxes full of dusty books, rolls of disposed cables, keyboards and monitors in wait for someone to take them away.
Curtains are closing and I still linger on the stage, as if this could help me recollect all the wasted opportunities I had.

My photographic experience started here, on the banks of this town harbour, where you can still aim at people walking in the streets without being hit. I have still one night ahead and I can't miss it. I just need to get out of this state of lethargy I have recently entered. This could hopefully be a sign of recovery. The world is waiting for me!
And maybe, at least, a piece of good red herring I'll be.