Stockholm, the sky is not a roof

Stockholm, like two friends walking together for a while before separating, the moon and the big planet whose name I really should know. Not so long ago many people beleived that the sky was kind of a roof spread out, and that stars and planets were small gaps making light from Heaven visible for us human beings. When my daughter was five she asked "how can the sky keep in balance?".

Now we know better. There is no flat ceiling up there, and the sky cannot tip and fall down.

Knowledge theory is about human logics as a tool to understand the world by perception, with our senses. The properties of the smallest phsyiological particles as well as the creation and development of universe. And whatever will be beyond the smallest particle, known today, and beyond the universe, still further away in space and time.

But beyond logics, science is not able to act. It's prisoned by what is measurable and by our brains working with logics built on language. For thousands of years people have put their faces upwards, regarding the great picture of sky by night, wondering why we live and why everything is there. And we will keep on wondering.

Beirut, waiting for children

Beirut, early Spring, before Israel's latest bombardments. This suffering city, destroyed, rebuilt, destroyed and rebuilt again.

But yet we know nothing about the war to come. The April sun is kindly ligthning the playground, and the disney inspired figures, in boats and cars and with funny lamps on their heads, look welcoming and full of expectation. Still the boats and cars and wagons stand quiet, but soon the kids arrive, laughters, joy and sparkling life. Before the bombs. And after the bombs. That keeps hope alive.

Stockholm, small things on the ground

Stockholm, in the middle of a park, with a great view of the city I look down at my feet, where a collection of scraps has been spread out on the ground. The Swedish name is translated to bookmarks, but I think they say 'scraps' in English. As a child I had a period collecting and exchanging them, for example collecting only wild animals and giving all flower scraps away. I guess it's the same thing now among small children.

So, what has happened here on the top of a mountain in the centre of a park? A thief with a stolen bag hiding in the bushes, who in disappointment has thrown these pieces of paper around himself? Or herself? Or only traces of a bad tempered kid? Shit the same, here they are for some time, fragments from something that happened. Things among other small and big things around us proving that after all there is a history.

Stockholm, in grayscale

Stockholm, sitting at the thirteenth floor, pointing the camera through the window, zooming in a more distant area of the city. It's 17 PM, the grey sky is getting darker, snow from yesterday makes contrast to the black chimneys and roofings.

Now, a couple of hours later when looking at the photo I see only old houses. Incidently the zoom cut out out a view without new buildings.

Stockholm is not filled with only old houses. It's not a static, dirty city. People don't look like and behave like in the fifties. And a photo never tells the whole story.

Serrekunda and Stockholm, women at work

Serrekunda and Stockholm, the picture above is in the hut in Serrekunda, the Gambia. I look at it every morning and evening the few days I stay there. Women preparing food, women caring for their children and if the painting had been a bit wider, we would have seen women working with the dry soil, cultivating. In a still wider painting, a bit more far away, there would be women at the marketplace selling eggs and vegetables. And what about the men? Reading, occupied with abstract matters in the refreshing shadow of a tree. Or taking a walk, enjoying a good pipe. 

Winter in Stockholm, last year. In the very centre of the city, Sergels Torg, the Modern Dance Theatre has some kind of performance. Women chopping wood in full action. Arms waving, axes blowing. We also hear the song of power saws, and they are handled by men. And, actually, a power saw is much more fun than an axe!

Across Africa, the one and only Coke

Across Africa, a colleague of mine with origins in Syria, today said that his father experienced the introduction of Pepsi, the first imported soft drink in the country. Still today for him all soft drinks are Pepsi. What a success for a trademark to replace all the others!

And the soft drink Coca Cola is around the globe, everybody knows. So why talk about that? Well, still I get surprised to see the coke bottle with the trademark in tgrinja language on a café table in Asmara, Eritrea, eastern Africa. This relatively closed country when it comes to imports from abroad.

Also surprised when I see the familiar logotype on a tree, in the middle of nowhere, outside the small village of Khouboni in the Gambia, western Africa.

Hmm, I guess it tastes good that thing, I will try one this weekend!

Stockholm, to see or not to see

Stockholm, today on the bicycle on the way home. Afternoon, 16:40 PM, and I stop to take a photo. You know, this is my ordinary way to the job and home again. I see the same houses, same streets, almost the same people, every day, but without really seeing them. I note their existence, without regarding, not thinking of colors, what windows look like, how doors are designed.

Sometimes, during summer, I go to places in Stockholm crowded with tourists to play a tourist myself, and it's like looking with other glasses.

The same thing now, when I stop the bike and pick up the camera – I see the beauty of these nice houses in the Old City and the frozen water in front of them. Dear camera, old friend, you really help me to see and to explore.

Valdemarsvik, time for dreaming

Valdemarsvik, Sweden, early morning, fast breakfast, luggage is on the bike since yesterday. Sidebags, rollbag, tankbag. Chilly morning, misty, wet. Helmet on, motor starting, nice music, and away. Rolling ahead, curving, narrow road, feels promising. Sun appears, begins its slow climbing behind trees. Dazzling light straight in my eyes. Stops after an hour, stretching the legs, checking the luggage, all seems okay. On and away again. Smile. It will be a long day on the road. Southwards to somewhere. Waiting for spring is daydreaming...

Geneva, music for money

Geneva, rue du Mont-Blanc, close to the train station. An old organ-grinder in action. Beside him, on the organ, his cat is quietly sleeping covered with blankets. Simultaneously, while unceasingly turning the crank, he reads today's news in a couple of the several free papers found here and there in this city – seemingly not too engaged in the music.

In my imgination I see, instead of him, a youngster with an iPod connected to a loudspeaker. Reading some papers, hoping for money. And I am sure – he wouldn't get a single centime. The difference is a battery instead of a turning arm. And, maybe more important, the old organ-grinder adds something the youngster wouldn't do to the Geneva trademark, appreciated by most tourists. A pittoresque and charming accent to a traditional and a little old-fashioned city.

La Dune de Pilat, more sand...

La Dune de Pilat, yesterday I wrote about the biggest area of sand dunes in Europe, the Slowinski National Park at the Polish Baltic Sea coast. The day before there was a story from Cap Ferret at the French Atlantic coast. Now I realize the connection between these photos. When looking beyond the boats, helplessly spread around in the sand waiting for tide, there is a huge sand dune, licked and redesigned by the Atlantic waves. And this one is the biggest single sand dune of our continent, measuring 2500 meters total length and 1500 meters width. On the top you are 120 meters above the waves. This is La Dune de Pilat. I have not been on the top, but I guess it's like so many other things in France – just magnifique.

Slowinski National Park, sand, sand, sand

Slowinski National Park, we come by motorcycle, crossing Gdansk, then follow the coast westwards and arrive at a desert like place in the north of Europe. It's in the middle of summer, we walk up the dunes feeling a bit like clumpsy astronauts on the moon in our heavy clothes. It's hot and it's bright. An astonishing place. These are the biggest sandy dunes in Europe. We sit here for a while like all the others. It's really a great sight and we don't know what to do with it but to sit down for a while. After that we are gliding down back to the bikes. And the wind makes life more comfortable again.

Cap Ferret, roaring waves

Cap Ferret, this photo is in contrast to what it makes me think about. I am at Cap Ferret, the French Atlantic coast not so far from Bordeaux. Cap Ferret is a narrow tongue of land with a nice lighthouse at the ending point. Along the road are expensive summer houses, inhabited by rich city people. Inside Cap Ferret is a shallow creek, Bassin d'Arcachon, where during ebb boats look helplessly thrown up and spread around. That's what my photo is about.

By crossing the Cap Ferret tongue, just a few hundred meters I reach the wild, dark waves of the Atlantic ocean. Walking down in the bright sand, feeling the fresh, salty wind in the face, meeting the huge, roaring waves. Quietly standing there with closed eyes. Feeling an inner calmness, far away from time and space. That is what happens, and that's what I now think about.

Stockholm, dissolving mist

Stockholm, I have a friend who has suffered from a heavy depression now for a couple of years. Being in the middle of darkness you cannot see any gleam of hope. It's frustrating and hard to cope with for us being outside, in daily life, with both clouds and sunshine. But the other day when I met him he had changed, he was almost like before he got ill, and we had a nice time together.

Mist is lifting, light appears. Everything is changing. Always.

Nong Khai, imagine crossing borders

Nong Khai, crossing borders is exciting. By air your imagination may not be too excited, clouds look the same everywhere. Trains are better, roads are excellent, preferably by motorcycle. 

Some bridges connect countries. This is one of them. It's crossing Mae Khong River, connecting Nong Khai in Thailand with Vientiane in Laos. It's called the Friendship Bridge indicating a need of a symbol to confirm a good relationship.

I walk along the great river carefully looking at the other side. Like I did in the early eighties, when arriving with ferry boat at Travemünde. The east German border was as close as is now Laos. Looking for people, cars, bicycles, boats, canoes. Life. 

Until I cross the bridge I keep on imagine what it would be like getting there. 

A huge thunderstorm with heavy winds suddenly breaks out. Interrupted imagination – I hurry inside.

Stockholm, exceptional visual moment

Stockholm, today is a misty day, orientation forward limited to 20 meters, people like sleep walkers, and I am lucky to find my way home and to get inside making a big café crème. Start thinking about and longing for that day in the beginning of April, that great early morning at lake Vindommen 250 kilometers southwards. The sun is warming up the fresh, chilly air, birds are busy preparing for breeding, nature filled with expectations. And so am I. This was April 4th.

Please share with me this exceptional moment of 2 minutes and 20 seconds. You will need a QuickTime player, download if you haven't got one already, and a new visual world gets accessible.

Waxholm, islands in the dark

Waxholm, Sweden, winter, late evening. Out there in the darkness are hundreds of islands and lots of them served by boats for passengers and goods, all around the year. Not many people live there during winter, but some do, often combining two or three activities to get their income. Tough people, creative people, individualists. People turning the back to urban life, looking for silence.

I take the photo from a hotel window. Stockholm is 30 kilometers away, a comfortable distance if loneliness becomes a headache.

Asmara, why don't you go to school?

Asmara, the boys I meet at the market are no exception. All around the world millions of children have no access to school. They have to work to earn money for their families. Or their parents cannot afford schoolfees, school uniforms, bus tickets, books and so on. Also in countries with free education there are many costs.

These two boys have to work to get some money to their family. It's about to get food this day and tomorrow. 

Education is development, individually and for societies and nations. One of the most urgent global task is to bring education and a chance for all children.

Paris, holy people drunk?

Paris, after more than two hours of patient waiting in cold winds we at last enter Le Louvre. Of course it's worth waiting, it's a magnificent building and an excellent collection of painting and sculpture. You can hardly swallow them all – it's just too much. So you make a choice.

I stop in front of this one. Little Jesus in his mother's arms surrounded by cherubs and people in a soft, cloudy landscape – an often returning subject for painters of this time. I study the faces and can hardly decide whether they look hypnotized or just drunk. Times are changing and also values and symbols. Okay, but drunk people have always looked about the same...

A nice thing is that photographing without flash is free here.

Tokyo, sleeping maybe dreaming

Tokyo, in late January, the air is fresh, softed by a pale sun. A man is peacefully sleeping close to the water in the huge Imperial Palace Park. Poverty meets Fortune, while sleeping in harmony. Dreaming about what?

Autignac, then and now

Autignac, southern France, my first time here was 1979. Small shops and cafés everywhere around the square. Old men and women sitting talking in narrow streets until late evening. Now things are different. Even the Tabac is closed. The old people are gone, I don't know where. Most families living here around the year have moved to modern villas with nice gardens and pools just outside the old village. In the village centre houses are sold to people from northern Europe and used as summer residencies. During winter many houses are dark and empty.

And what happened to the Citroën Ami 6 – maybe left behind when the family moved to the new villa a bit away.

Bangkok, dramatic changes

Bangkok, fast walking, almost jogging, down the street. Then steps out. Crash! the young guy is run over by a motorbike. He falls badly, his head smashing to the ground, then lies paralysed, just with a foot shaking like on a boxer knocked out.

During less than a second life is dramatically changed. Some dangers may be avoided by thinking first, by being careful, others just happen.

Six months later I wonder about him. Is he alive? Maybe badly damaged in a wheelchair. Or maybe just walking down the street like before, just a bit slower, more carefully.