a few months ago i was discussing with my friend giulia about the trials related to the violent facts that happened in Genoa during the 2001 G8 summit, which were taking place at that time in italy. several of the people who went there to demonstrate against the summit witnessed and experienced, during and after the summit, extremely strong abuses, then long, slow trials started. but now, after seven years, the trials are going towards a blind alley: of all the people who will possibly turn out guilty, none of them will have to serve prison terms, because of the long trial times and a statute of limitations we call "prescrizione". furthermore, in italy the accuse of torture still cannot be charged: it does simply not exist.
besides the forecast outcome of the trials, one of the things that pissed my friend off most was that there was no single word in the international press about that. she told me you should write something on your blog (as if it was a well known spotlight for information!). we even thought we ought to write letters to the main international newspapers. so many words had been spent against US off-border torture policy, but when something as scary as that happens (and is successfully hidden afterwards) within the good old gates of europe, it is largely ignored...
i am more and more scared we are becoming more and more like those people i described in the Guantanamo post a few days ago: are we really going to be insensitive to torture, even when it is performed in our own country? i hope not.
then a couple of days ago the final verdict of the trial came out. exactly as expected, the sentence is purely representative: none of the convicted ones will actually go to jail, no political investigation will be carried out to probe responsibilities.
and, not so ironically, one of the most interesting comments i read this time was not on the italian newspapers, but on The Guardian. at least this time the european press has not stayed silent.
so i am posting here a couple of passages from the article by Nick Davies, 17.07.2008:
(.....)
On Monday, 15 police, prison guards and prison medics finally were convicted for their part in the violence - although it emerged yesterday that none of them would actually serve prison terms. In Italy, defendants don't go to jail until they have exhausted the appeals process; and in this case, the convictions and sentences will be wiped out by a statute of limitations next year. Meanwhile, the politicians who were responsible for the police, prison guards and prison medics have never had to explain themselves. Fundamental questions about why this happened remain unanswered - and they hint at the third and most important reason for remembering Genoa. This is not simply the story of law officers running riot, but of something uglier and more worrying beneath the surface.
(.....)
No Italian politician has been brought to book, in spite of the strong suggestion that the police acted as though somebody had promised them impunity. One minister visited Bolzaneto while the detainees were being mistreated and apparently saw nothing or, at least, saw nothing he thought he should stop.
(.....)
Most of the several hundred law officers involved in Diaz and Bolzaneto have escaped without any discipline or criminal charge. None has been suspended; some have been promoted. None of the officers who were tried over Bolzaneto has been charged with torture - Italian law does not recognise the offence.
(.....)
Fifty-two days after the attack on the Diaz school, 19 men used planes full of passengers as flying bombs and shifted the bedrock of assumptions on which western democracies had based their business. Since then, politicians who would never describe themselves as fascists have allowed the mass tapping of telephones and monitoring of emails, detention without trial, systematic torture, the calibrated drowning of detainees, unlimited house arrest and the targeted killing of suspects, while the procedure of extradition has been replaced by "extraordinary rendition". This isn't fascism with jack-booted dictators with foam on their lips. It's the pragmatism of nicely turned-out politicians. But the result looks very similar. Genoa tells us that when the state feels threatened, the rule of law can be suspended. Anywhere.
the full article can be found here:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/jul/17/italy.g8
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
blue & joy (me definitely joy)
there's this hilarious though discouraging italian comic where the characters are called blue & joy. clearly, blue is always happy, although he looks like sad, and the other way around for the ever smiling joy. and clearly i feel like joy, because (even though?!) i'm feeling blue :)
after all, mondays always give me the blues...
Monday, July 21, 2008
innocent when you dream
and it's such a sad old feeling
the fields are soft and green
it's memories that I'm stealing
but you're innocent when you dream
all that glitters is gold
you might have been driving for ten hours and you’re tired and sweaty, but it doesn’t matter.
you might have been waiting outside in the line, and now you’re sitting in the theatre and still waiting, and still it doesn’t matter.
and those 40 minutes could have even been longer but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because when the lights go off and smoke starts filling the stage, you know it’s going to be exactly as you’ve always imagined.
grumpy old man sang and shone for more than two hours in a raw, even though time was not a factor inside that room.
and it's time time time…
and again i’m not a writer, so i’m sure i’m not easily going to find words to describe his stroboscopic hat rotating and shining all over the place, and his sweet and kind of clumsy way of clapping hands, always trying to trick the audience out of rhythm, and his voice on the megaphone...
nor the fact that throughout the concert i had the feeling his voice was somehow large, bigger than anything i've ever heard. huge. if a voice can possibly be large, or big, or huge.
everything could fit in that sound…
at some point he starts telling some stories about the lost luggage storage in milan, and his trips around europe, where he recommends always to take an attorney along - wasn’t it in the US that you could get sued for anything? anyway...
so he’s sitting at the piano telling stories and you’re trying to catch his irony about drinking fishes and smoking monkeys and you don’t realise it, you couldn’t possibly realise it until you hear the words “wasted and wounded” and you would have never ever thought he would sit there at the piano and be singing tom traubert’s blues, for real, with the bass playing along, just a few meters away…
and it's nothing but shivers running down the spine and skin curling, this one is really the part i’ve always imagined. and it’s true. and i’m also dying to go downstairs and approach the stage and shoot a great photo, but anyway i don’t have a huge lens able to catch those few light rays reflecting from his face, and i’m not that good anyway, so i’d better just sit here and enjoy this trembling feeling in my arms.
and you might be a little sad when he’s singing make it rain and shiny glitter is actually raining on him, because you know it’s going to be over in a few minutes, but still you’re not sad, because that shivering sensation feels like it's gone now, but it’s not. it’s all over, but it’s not. some of the glitter's still there.
even when you go out and look at the weird combination of humans coming out of the theatre, even when you stare at the full moon shining, even when you think there’s a whole switzerland to cross tomorrow, five hours (or hopefully less!) where all the world is green...
even then, the glitter’s not gone.
tom waits - glitter and doom tour
teatro degli arcimboldi, milano, 19th July 2008
you might have been waiting outside in the line, and now you’re sitting in the theatre and still waiting, and still it doesn’t matter.
and those 40 minutes could have even been longer but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because when the lights go off and smoke starts filling the stage, you know it’s going to be exactly as you’ve always imagined.
grumpy old man sang and shone for more than two hours in a raw, even though time was not a factor inside that room.
and it's time time time…
and again i’m not a writer, so i’m sure i’m not easily going to find words to describe his stroboscopic hat rotating and shining all over the place, and his sweet and kind of clumsy way of clapping hands, always trying to trick the audience out of rhythm, and his voice on the megaphone...
nor the fact that throughout the concert i had the feeling his voice was somehow large, bigger than anything i've ever heard. huge. if a voice can possibly be large, or big, or huge.
everything could fit in that sound…
at some point he starts telling some stories about the lost luggage storage in milan, and his trips around europe, where he recommends always to take an attorney along - wasn’t it in the US that you could get sued for anything? anyway...
so he’s sitting at the piano telling stories and you’re trying to catch his irony about drinking fishes and smoking monkeys and you don’t realise it, you couldn’t possibly realise it until you hear the words “wasted and wounded” and you would have never ever thought he would sit there at the piano and be singing tom traubert’s blues, for real, with the bass playing along, just a few meters away…
and it's nothing but shivers running down the spine and skin curling, this one is really the part i’ve always imagined. and it’s true. and i’m also dying to go downstairs and approach the stage and shoot a great photo, but anyway i don’t have a huge lens able to catch those few light rays reflecting from his face, and i’m not that good anyway, so i’d better just sit here and enjoy this trembling feeling in my arms.
and you might be a little sad when he’s singing make it rain and shiny glitter is actually raining on him, because you know it’s going to be over in a few minutes, but still you’re not sad, because that shivering sensation feels like it's gone now, but it’s not. it’s all over, but it’s not. some of the glitter's still there.
even when you go out and look at the weird combination of humans coming out of the theatre, even when you stare at the full moon shining, even when you think there’s a whole switzerland to cross tomorrow, five hours (or hopefully less!) where all the world is green...
even then, the glitter’s not gone.
tom waits - glitter and doom tour
teatro degli arcimboldi, milano, 19th July 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
gotta go painting today... again...
here's a story which is extremely old-fashion romantic and somehow freaks me out at the same time....
on the 5 freeway, north of seattle, there is a rock. when i passed by on the bus it was painted with flowers. fair enough, people paint walls and rocks all around the world.
but the bus driver, who btw was a super lovely lady (besides being "a hell of a driver" as another traveller pointed out) and chatted with me throughout the whole trip (for a change!), told me that every time she passes by, that rock is covered with a different painting. like hearts, or abstract patterns, or with something written. and she's been driving along that way for 4 years now, 3 or 4 times per week.
ok, this can mean very many things...
but i can't take away from my mind this idea of someone who every morning wakes up, takes his/her brushes & colours, drives all the way there and paints a different rock every day.
like if it were a duty, a gift to the commuters driving along the same road every freaking day. at least they see something different. or maybe it could be a message to a special one of them, may it be a way to make someone fall in love every day more, to say hello to an old friend you got no time to speak with anymore, whatever. after all, everybody's gotta have a goal to wake up in the morning...
on the 5 freeway, north of seattle, there is a rock. when i passed by on the bus it was painted with flowers. fair enough, people paint walls and rocks all around the world.
but the bus driver, who btw was a super lovely lady (besides being "a hell of a driver" as another traveller pointed out) and chatted with me throughout the whole trip (for a change!), told me that every time she passes by, that rock is covered with a different painting. like hearts, or abstract patterns, or with something written. and she's been driving along that way for 4 years now, 3 or 4 times per week.
ok, this can mean very many things...
but i can't take away from my mind this idea of someone who every morning wakes up, takes his/her brushes & colours, drives all the way there and paints a different rock every day.
like if it were a duty, a gift to the commuters driving along the same road every freaking day. at least they see something different. or maybe it could be a message to a special one of them, may it be a way to make someone fall in love every day more, to say hello to an old friend you got no time to speak with anymore, whatever. after all, everybody's gotta have a goal to wake up in the morning...
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
"My Guantanamo Diary"
The Detainees and the Stories They Told Me.
by Mahvish Rukhsana Khan
"It’s easy to mistreat something called No. 1154. It’s easy to shave its beard, to kick it around like an object, to spit on it, torture it, or make it cry. It’s harder to dole out such abuse when No. 1154 retains its identity: Dr. Ali Shah Mousovi, a pediatrician who fled the Taliban, worked for the United Nations encouraging Afghans to participate and vote in the new democracy. It’s harder to hate No. 1154 when you realize that he’s more like you than he is different. His wife, an economist by profession, waits month after month, year after year for the news that her husband is coming home; his two sons and young daughter grow up without him."
when i was in seattle i ended up at a book reading where Mahvish Rukhsana Khan was introducing her book. she is an american lawyer, born to immigrant afghan parents in michigan. being fluent in pashtun, she managed to become a translator between american attorneys and guantanamo detainees.
what she describes in the book are the personal stories of the prisoners. because, she claims, when the community start consider the prisoners as individuals, disappointment against what's going on there will grow stronger in the country and more and more people will ask for the place to be closed.
makes sense, to some extent.
although for me it's still impossible to clearly understand why you need to say that much to convince people that torture is wrong. it's still impossible for me to understand how, to some, the possibility of torturing an innocent might still be the main problem about guantanamo, and not torture itself, and non-existing trials.
but i can't pretend to understand a world i've been observing only for a couple of days.
apart from the book, which sounded interesting and i ended up buying, it was also interesting to be there at the reading. there were several questions, and you could clearly distinguish people supporting and appreciating her work, and those who were skeptical and kept repeating that the troops are doing a great job and that the possibility of capturing a true, dangerous criminal justifies everything else... tough...
more info about the book at www.mahvishkhan.com
here's the washington post article from 2006 from which the book developed and here's a podcast with a radio interview where she says most of the stuff she said at the reading, too
by Mahvish Rukhsana Khan
"It’s easy to mistreat something called No. 1154. It’s easy to shave its beard, to kick it around like an object, to spit on it, torture it, or make it cry. It’s harder to dole out such abuse when No. 1154 retains its identity: Dr. Ali Shah Mousovi, a pediatrician who fled the Taliban, worked for the United Nations encouraging Afghans to participate and vote in the new democracy. It’s harder to hate No. 1154 when you realize that he’s more like you than he is different. His wife, an economist by profession, waits month after month, year after year for the news that her husband is coming home; his two sons and young daughter grow up without him."
when i was in seattle i ended up at a book reading where Mahvish Rukhsana Khan was introducing her book. she is an american lawyer, born to immigrant afghan parents in michigan. being fluent in pashtun, she managed to become a translator between american attorneys and guantanamo detainees.what she describes in the book are the personal stories of the prisoners. because, she claims, when the community start consider the prisoners as individuals, disappointment against what's going on there will grow stronger in the country and more and more people will ask for the place to be closed.
makes sense, to some extent.
although for me it's still impossible to clearly understand why you need to say that much to convince people that torture is wrong. it's still impossible for me to understand how, to some, the possibility of torturing an innocent might still be the main problem about guantanamo, and not torture itself, and non-existing trials.
but i can't pretend to understand a world i've been observing only for a couple of days.
apart from the book, which sounded interesting and i ended up buying, it was also interesting to be there at the reading. there were several questions, and you could clearly distinguish people supporting and appreciating her work, and those who were skeptical and kept repeating that the troops are doing a great job and that the possibility of capturing a true, dangerous criminal justifies everything else... tough...
more info about the book at www.mahvishkhan.com
here's the washington post article from 2006 from which the book developed and here's a podcast with a radio interview where she says most of the stuff she said at the reading, too
Monday, July 07, 2008
so you want to be a writer?
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
From sifting through the madness for the Word, the line, the way by Charles Bukowski
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
From sifting through the madness for the Word, the line, the way by Charles Bukowski
Sunday, July 06, 2008
almost
almost risked to be stuck in toronto...
not that it would be a bad idea... never been there, but still...
guess i was kind of tired, plus sick of huge time difference, so when they almost told me i could not board on the toronto-frankfurt flight i almost had a breakdown!
but eventually everything worked out fine and am back in good old boring heidelberg...
back to good old grumpy claudia :)
not that it would be a bad idea... never been there, but still...
guess i was kind of tired, plus sick of huge time difference, so when they almost told me i could not board on the toronto-frankfurt flight i almost had a breakdown!
but eventually everything worked out fine and am back in good old boring heidelberg...
back to good old grumpy claudia :)
Saturday, July 05, 2008
when frank gehry might be exaggerating...
usually i like frank o'gehry's buildings.
so far i had only seen two, the dancing house in prague and the guggenheim museum in bilbao, and i loved them both. and the huge sculpture-like whatever thing it is inside the DZ bank in berlin, too. which is also kind of cool.
then i watched this documentary about him by sidney pollack, and noticed how some of his projects, it's true, are a bit over the tone... eg. the disney concert hall in LA... way too much stuff!!! and then i found myself walking past one of these hyper-projects... the experience music project in seattle... pink and red and silver and gold and blue... isn't it a bit too much??
but i have to say, he's a pretty honest guy. he was contacted by the local administration in salerno about a project for a garbage burning plant, and a lot of noise appeared in the news, with his pictures all over! but when they eventually dumped him without notice, he complained that making use of his name was only propaganda (i would say, to praise the community and not make them notice how bad a burning plant is for them...)
cool frank, when you don't exaggerate, i really like you!
so far i had only seen two, the dancing house in prague and the guggenheim museum in bilbao, and i loved them both. and the huge sculpture-like whatever thing it is inside the DZ bank in berlin, too. which is also kind of cool.
then i watched this documentary about him by sidney pollack, and noticed how some of his projects, it's true, are a bit over the tone... eg. the disney concert hall in LA... way too much stuff!!! and then i found myself walking past one of these hyper-projects... the experience music project in seattle... pink and red and silver and gold and blue... isn't it a bit too much??
but i have to say, he's a pretty honest guy. he was contacted by the local administration in salerno about a project for a garbage burning plant, and a lot of noise appeared in the news, with his pictures all over! but when they eventually dumped him without notice, he complained that making use of his name was only propaganda (i would say, to praise the community and not make them notice how bad a burning plant is for them...)
cool frank, when you don't exaggerate, i really like you!
eco friendly seattle
apart from the fact that a lot of people ride bikes... a real lot!!! and the place is so freaking full of hills! i thought about hiring one myself but then i had a look around and no way i'm going to bike over all those hills...
and apart from everybody being obsessed with organic food and organic farms and eat local and eat more veggies...
thumbs up for both facts, but this time i wanted to bring attention to seattle's green building strategy: one of the examples is the seattle public library, built with energy efficiency, water conservation, recycled materials and improved environmental quality in mind. isn't it cool?
when architectural choices can avoid waste of energy and resources, why not doing it?!
and apart from everybody being obsessed with organic food and organic farms and eat local and eat more veggies...
thumbs up for both facts, but this time i wanted to bring attention to seattle's green building strategy: one of the examples is the seattle public library, built with energy efficiency, water conservation, recycled materials and improved environmental quality in mind. isn't it cool?
when architectural choices can avoid waste of energy and resources, why not doing it?!
i've got a thing for ferry boats
haha :)
not true, actually.
but i do have a thing for container terminals!
this friendly seattle
sooo... i have to take my word back. when i arrived here it was late and i was tired, and true at night downtown the only people walking were me and drunken guy and homeless guy.
but then, during the day, it's another world...
not only do people walk on the street and take buses all over the place, they are also sooo friendly! they smile at your face, when you cross them in the street, they ask you how're you doing? and it's not being overnice, they're just friendly! even if you're not having a clumsy-looking-on-the-map moment, they often stop by just to have a chat...
how cool is that?!?
i spent three days walking around the neighbourhoods of seattle and spoke with so many people i can hardly remember...
let's see... there was san diego bus girl, who was very nice and told me about how she's in between jobs, then there was old park janitor guy, who made fun of me entering the cemetery while still being alive, and then mask and smoking on top of the van guys, who asked me the difference about saying i love you and i'm in love with you...
and by the way, i think i got it wrong... being italian biased, i still think the first one is kind of "serious" while the second one may be also weaker, but probably in english it's the other way around... after all, they say i love you all the time!
and then there was the bunch of lovely muslim girls i met at the book reading about guantanamo (i'm going to write a separate post about it), and then police sushi guy, and finger-crossed football guy, who maybe was not that friendly for free after all but who cares (i'm sure he's a republican or something else as bad!), and drugstore south carolina guy, who showed me a great spot in queen ann hill with top view of the lake, and army nutrition guy who told me about his upcoming trip to europe, and today cat guitar girl who took me around brainbridge and her boyfriend whom she met on the ferry boat (sweet!) and then magnolia chatty lady on the pier, there was old veteran guy who was actually not so friendly, he just smiled but was probably kind of grumpy after all, with his 4th of july beautiful flag, then hostel desk guy, who probably said "nice" way too much but still was totally friendly, and hostel desk girl who was sure i had a spanish accent and said my glasses were very seattle style, and all the lovely somalian cab drivers i found along the way...
am i forgetting anyone?? yes... super charming bookstore guy! who works in the greatest bookstore i've seen in ages (check it out: the Elliott Bay Book Company) and suggested me this seattle written & based novel about multiple personalities... i hope it's really as cool as he described it :)
and of course all the young volunteers campaigning for obama at every corner and believing that (maybe) they can - sorry for disappointing any single one of you by telling i can't vote, it's just so true!
you friendly friendly seattlites, i guess i'm gonna miss you all the way back to germany...
but then, during the day, it's another world...
not only do people walk on the street and take buses all over the place, they are also sooo friendly! they smile at your face, when you cross them in the street, they ask you how're you doing? and it's not being overnice, they're just friendly! even if you're not having a clumsy-looking-on-the-map moment, they often stop by just to have a chat...
how cool is that?!?
i spent three days walking around the neighbourhoods of seattle and spoke with so many people i can hardly remember...
let's see... there was san diego bus girl, who was very nice and told me about how she's in between jobs, then there was old park janitor guy, who made fun of me entering the cemetery while still being alive, and then mask and smoking on top of the van guys, who asked me the difference about saying i love you and i'm in love with you...
and by the way, i think i got it wrong... being italian biased, i still think the first one is kind of "serious" while the second one may be also weaker, but probably in english it's the other way around... after all, they say i love you all the time!
and then there was the bunch of lovely muslim girls i met at the book reading about guantanamo (i'm going to write a separate post about it), and then police sushi guy, and finger-crossed football guy, who maybe was not that friendly for free after all but who cares (i'm sure he's a republican or something else as bad!), and drugstore south carolina guy, who showed me a great spot in queen ann hill with top view of the lake, and army nutrition guy who told me about his upcoming trip to europe, and today cat guitar girl who took me around brainbridge and her boyfriend whom she met on the ferry boat (sweet!) and then magnolia chatty lady on the pier, there was old veteran guy who was actually not so friendly, he just smiled but was probably kind of grumpy after all, with his 4th of july beautiful flag, then hostel desk guy, who probably said "nice" way too much but still was totally friendly, and hostel desk girl who was sure i had a spanish accent and said my glasses were very seattle style, and all the lovely somalian cab drivers i found along the way...
am i forgetting anyone?? yes... super charming bookstore guy! who works in the greatest bookstore i've seen in ages (check it out: the Elliott Bay Book Company) and suggested me this seattle written & based novel about multiple personalities... i hope it's really as cool as he described it :)
and of course all the young volunteers campaigning for obama at every corner and believing that (maybe) they can - sorry for disappointing any single one of you by telling i can't vote, it's just so true!
you friendly friendly seattlites, i guess i'm gonna miss you all the way back to germany...
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
no country for pedestrians
always heard that about the US but never actually experienced it. without a car, you're nobody.
only people walking are me and homeless guys. or drunk guys.
scaaaaaryyyy
apart from that, seattle seems kind of cool.
guess now i'll just collapse, more stuff to see and shoot and tell tomorrow...
only people walking are me and homeless guys. or drunk guys.
scaaaaaryyyy
apart from that, seattle seems kind of cool.
guess now i'll just collapse, more stuff to see and shoot and tell tomorrow...
land of plenty
no way! i'm doing that... i'm blogging... from the bus!
i'm literally blogging from the bus!
i should be watching the US landscape right now but there's nothing except flatness and very straight roads, so i thought... let's blog...
just crossed the border by the way. here i am.
the land of plenty.
where things are huge and stuff cost nothing.
at least, they say...
let's see whether it's true
i'm literally blogging from the bus!
i should be watching the US landscape right now but there's nothing except flatness and very straight roads, so i thought... let's blog...
just crossed the border by the way. here i am.
the land of plenty.
where things are huge and stuff cost nothing.
at least, they say...
let's see whether it's true
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