Lost Time and Evidence

Making up for lost time.

More lost months. Been wandering. 

Lost in books. Lost in films. Lost in other worlds, other nights and other places. 

A month lost in Mexico; in Chiapas, Yucatan, DF, Campeche, Tabasco. Strange lost moments and lost days spread over many weeks in the film landscapes of Malmö, Helsinki, Barcelona, Paris; across frozen seas, lazy afternoons on sun drenched balconies, in back rooms and underground dens. A thieves' den of books by Bolaño, Murakami, Houellebecq, Marquez, Mishima, Faulkner. A forged trip to Berlin to premiere Galore and The Turning at the Berlinale and endless lost nights in that city that can so easily steal pockets of your soul if you don't keep vigil.

Weeks spent trying to finish off old scripts. Travelling back and forward. Weeks spent losing things, losing people, losing paths and losing track.

Now, spinning compasses and trying desperately to get home, to return to somewhere where the feet are settled again. 

The missing words from places like this blog are testament to the distance travelled from home. No more time to lose.

Some 35mm evidence:

Romance and Tourism

We remake the world in our minds.

Things I Have Learnt

Things I have learnt about Paris:

• in general, life, and specifically, a trip to Paris, is more fun with a bunch of Colombian filmmakers and intellectuals.
• the air is colder here than anything I have previously known.
• even iceskating - which I have previously recalled as the domain of boons, dry rooters and cockwacks - is achingly cool here.
• the bookstores sell photo books I've only ever dreamed of.
• people feed me cheese and preserved meats I've only ever dreamed of.
• the light is as good as all those novels, poems, photographs and films would have you believe.
• my vivid memories of being here at 18 and 19 and unsuccessfully chasing girls, life, cinema, literature and poetry are not to be trusted.
• churches are still mostly boring, except for the gory stuff.

Here are a handful of photos.