it’s 2012 and you have just finished working for a corporation, they discharged you and the whole team, hiring cheaper workforce from another country. you promise to yourself never again an office job (will break that promise) and move back to your hometown, where you start photographing.

for a while you live with your mother who’s got a sick liver from an infection she got in a public hospital. there is no treatment yet for this severity. maybe this is the last christmas, maybe not. you live on this edge for a long time. it becomes part of your own geometry. the long relationship you were in, is now dissolving without any words. you don’t think he can understand the edge. there’s nothing really to understand. depression is a soft dark cocoon.
the days are very short and very long.

some evenings you watch fringe together. the fictionalised possibility of portals in this world holds you both in suspense. the other remaining evenings are reserved for discovering cinema giants. you watch béla tarr’s films alone as if it’s the only director in the world, rationing each one so they last. you discover atmospheric textured music, layered soundscapes. you stay single for years, even if ocasionally fall in love. you can’t fall over that edge. there is finally an experimental treatment for her. she decides to try it out. it seems to be working. you peek in the bedroom at night looking whether her chest is moving up and down. up and down is good. it means more christmases.

someday, you start cooking new ingredients, like quinoa. you make pasta from scratch, spinach fettuccine. the dough becomes green. stretching long fragments into edible shapes. facebook becomes a place where you find your similars. most of these people will remain strangers, some you will meet over cake in bucharest or in prague, exploring an old cinema’s lobby filled with movie posters.

one january you visit berlin and feel like a fish in the water. five months later you move countries. for the next years, you will be sharing christmas days between brandenburg and banat. living on the edge looks much more different now. it has morphed into a sphere. you know how people say that the cells of your body renew every seven years? it’s a myth. the cells lining your stomach renew in just a few days, while red blood cells live for about four months and liver cells can take around three years to fully replace. as if time was a straight line.

hop on a train / 2015 / 57sec