Day 347

Confession: I took this photo in a place that’s one of my least favourite places, in a dirty part of a busy city.

I kept it in my gallery because something felt special about the discomfort it gave me.

I’ve thought and thought and thought, and I genuinely don’t know what it is exactly, other than a knot in my stomach.

It reminds me of the quote from Belá Tarr.

“I went to Japan. That was my first trip to the far East and an old professor took me to the museum. There was a picture with white and two black dots, and the old Japanese professor told me: ‘I’m sure, because you came from Western culture, I’m sure that for you, the story is the two black dots.’ Then I said ‘Yeah.’ He said: ‘No, for us, it’s the white.’ And then I was really thinking a lot. What is story? And when you really think about it, why do we, in films, ignore, for example, the time?”

The shirt is the two black dots.

The wall tells so much more.

And maybe that’s why this photo is special to me.

Sound of the day: Vig Mihály – Harang https://youtu.be/f6MPCMXLMhY?si=bmOC3_bvpCuyYvp7

(I haven’t seen Sátántangó 1994 yet)