last weekend I went to CHB to visit my friend O. during her stay at a residency there. I drove there listening to post punk Britain. passing by the city Blois, looking at it from the left bank of the river Loire. Have never felt roman empire in its powerful city landscape as it appeared to me that moment.

I arrived to the château and melted.

Later that evening we were collecting pines of the Sequoiadendron giganteum..its full name. and Cecile found a little dead bird. I took a little shovel and berried it.

That night I had a dream. It was messy as always. too many happenings and people from all over the world. At some moment I realise I have something inside of my nose. I go to the toilet to check. And I see that I have that little bird stuck in there. I am pulling it and thinking, aaah I have been doing some cocane recently..probably there was some tiny birds seed in it..how much shit they mix into drugs this days..no wonder I got a baby bird growing there. I pull it out and it has an umbilical cord even. I cut it and the bird seems to be dead, and as it falls into the drain, I see that it is still alive, but I am not fast enough to catch it or get it out.. I carelessly think - what ever... and leave.

so what do I think about this dream? its been a week I had it in my mind.. and I think that I'am a fucking slave of so many manipulations and situations and I flash my little freedom down the drain and I could not care less about it.

I really don't like this reality I'am living in right now. I don't feel free and I don't see how can escape it at the moment.

one good idea I have since a long time, I need to buy a piece of land in Switzerland, build myself a studio, library and hide there with my bicycle and Boba, while he is still a sweet bun.

peace out brothers and sisters.