The noise of black and white

A walk with Napoleon

I haven't been posting anything since August, and that's simply because I haven't had any time. At all. Not that I have any now either, but it just feels good to steal some hours from what I should be studying to put them on the blog. So much exciting has happened the past weeks - and will happen the next months. I'm trying to make a 35 mm adapter collaborate with me while I mentally go though the thousand pages i should be reading. But it's all good and it's all for the best.

Jesper and I worked on the almost-final version of the short screenplay for an absurdly long time. But again, it's all so good. We've started the planning and the plotting, and working with mates such as Anita, Bendik, Andreas and last but not least the producer himself is way exciting indeed. But enough life-time resumees. Those are the last pictures from an end-of-summerish tour on the Italian and French alpes on which Napoleon digged his way to conquer Italy.

Portraits of what we said

Explorers of the universe unknown,
Everytime we leave, we do alone
and only when we're near it feels like home

We've been speaking with mouths and tongues
for way too long
she said, It's time to let the eyes shine,
and jumped naked down from the song

We used to tear time apart,
sometimes

Someone did it for twenty years,
others have been doing it for ninety-five.
Time doesn't bother me really,
as long as you say you'll come along.

We also used to make colors explode, and run away
laughing like wild animals.
We used to play with the shadows,
never understanding why the light would cut
the tips of our fingers.
Every time.

Than we ended up discussing about something philosophical .
Is there anything in this world that is more than three dimensional?
What if we were in a sphere
and didn't know it?
We would all be flying on the invisible surface
of the biggest fishbowl ever to be seen
openin our eyes, happy to be trapped
inbetween.

And we read all the letters on the walls,
and from the deepest valley in the warm blue sea
she screamt not to bother,
forever isn't a matter of calligraphy,
it's what we explore in the layers of the obvious
and make religion, only for us to be seen.

And yes, we're happy to bother you. Indeed.
It may feel disturbing, the presence of absence of appearance

At least when we live without translation,
no need for explanation or transplantation,
not even for a nation.
When our law
is a paper figure bound to a straw.

We never end up in the same place,
sometimes astonished, but hey the face
still tells a story with no line
a plot with a hundred mines
hidden in the pages
that you can't turn.
They're mine. Anytime.

This is just a portrait of what we said.

Explorers of the universe unknown,
Everytime we leave, we do alone
and only when we're near it feels like home

Turn, turn, turn

You get on a buss, you are told it won't stop. Not because the drivers are mad or the stops too sad. It's just how you want it, you don't even need to say it. You sit down, and it starts.




The mad thing is, people get on and off anyways. Even if the speed touches a hundred, even if the nearest layers of the landscape outside become a blurry dance of swirling grass straws and strawberry swings.









Maybe you didn't even "choose it". Maybe it's just all you wanted. And you aren't surrounded by ghosts. The ones who are speaking to you and laughing with you and punching you on the tongue with a smile every time you say something stupid, are the ones you've always loved, and always have been there, and are concrete like the ground you walk on during the day, and light like the clouds you sleep on at night.






And your binary system melts down to one at last, and starts rolling as fast as the wheels of your bus. Months pass like lightnings and tornados, and you think you don't even have the time to turn around, and think.






But you do. You turn around the earth, you turn yourself around, the inside and the outside, you turn past and future and thoughts upside down, and you start loving plans again, because you can only touch them with your brain and you don't need the fingers for it. And you can change them because they're like plastiline, but they look better, and still they feel as solid as your feelings, as solid as today. You turn so much that thoughts and feelings finally start making sense. Everything that was brightens up, everything that will be shines because it's unpredictable, and beautiful. And I, I don't even know what I'm writing about. And it just feels so good. This might be the only untouchable thing that is more real than what you can touch.

Glitter

Glitter from Maria Dyrvik on Vimeo.

Some things are just simple, as what you see might not always be everything there is to feel. This is the calligraphy of the sun.