MUDDLE. Bulduri Exhibition House, Latvia
I stand in a moonlit garden just as I stand on a street lit by traffic lights. alone, silent. so much has changed, yet nothing, and there is always something to overcome, something to let go, somewhere to run, always somewhere to run. 'I don't know,' I keep saying, not wanting to lie. I am afraid, always afraid of something. fear eats me for breakfast and lunch, dinner and midnight supper. and I feed on memories and impossible scenarios. the world crashes on top of me, weighing me down, making it hard to breathe. and yet, in truth, not much is really happening. between the moonlit clouds and blades of grass, sometimes, for just a moment, silence falls. I want nothing. perhaps if I make something, I might finally feel right — I will have fulfilled my potential, and the universe itself will lower its hand to earth to pat me on my back and say: 'well done, it's all right, ten out of ten.' I am so tired.
I need to save the world, let love appear as if by magic, start therapy, invent a brilliant business idea, pick mint for my tea, and commit suicide – all by the end of the week.
Photos by Annija Elza Deksne
