Blink and you’ll miss it

(This post will remain here as an evidence of what was on my mind when launching this blog. Now that my primary blog is full – at the end of 2017 – all action is moving over here.)

This is the first post on my new blog.

Unlike my primary blog The Mexi Movie which is factual, communicative and fun, this one aims to be even more a case of a photographer imposing her vision on others, or, even worse, a writer stuffing you with words.

Scared yet? Or ready?

I am. I’ve always been, but I am now. I’ve had to excuse the world for not giving a damn first. This is what happens when you are born the first child in a wider family.

And if you watch a film a day as late Marshall Tito used to do, you get to believe you direct your world and your life, or in his case, the state of Yugoslavia.

I merely promise to manage words and plaster photos around them, just as I’ve always done, alas usually on the inside.

In one day I could take as many photos as there are eye blinks. That’s what they are – blinks of my eye. Words are even more. Nobody keeps count of those.

I cannot not blink, or stop forming words.

I know sensible people, people who wish everybody well, people who throw back the balls that land in their gardens, people who eat their egos for breakfast and burn them at night to get warm. They keep all this to themselves. I wish they live long and prosper but I never wish to be like them.

I’m happy with the patterns I’ve gathered on my raft.

I could say that I was sorry, but that would be so Slovenian.

To sum up: welcome to my new blog, an extra. We shall not be sorry. We shall not look back, or forward, or anywhere really, just blink. And we shall never shut up because that, my friends, is death.

Not my garden, not my balls.