The more I photograph the colours, the more I like them. Specially the reds. They are my sun.

The poet for whom I've made the photo lives in Ibiza. He is 72 years old. He likes to dream, read Keats. And dancing.

 

A surfer on his board, a branch of lilac, an old boozer... In photography, all the subjects are equal.

In Oslo, I went out a lot. Black metal concerts.Pubs. Movie clubs. But on Sunday, it was loneliness and dolls.

 

This book is fascinating. Because of the photos of the popess of still life. And the so beautiful narrative of Diana Du Pont.

In Bern, one evening of boredom, I watched the falling snow. And then I've made the photo. My first still life.

Sunday at the flea market, seen Kurt. My friend DJ beamed. He had finally found the teaspoons of his dreams.