loneliness, an existential fear; to be separated from all other humans and social stimulations. cabin-fever, solitary confinement, winter blues, arctic hysteria, months of isolation, deja vu delirium.

    the quiet will gently burrow through your ears until your imagination pours out to keep you company. you talk to yourself to remember what words are. time lapses, run backwards and forwards again because there is no broader construct, you will not go to work or meet someone for coffee, you sleep during the day and day dream at night.

     your sense of self depends on your social context, on the people who accept and judge your looks, mannerisms, speech, smell. you’d dress up if you went to a job interview, you would change your sense of self appropriately to the establishment, maybe you’d wear perfume. would you still wear perfume if there was no one else to smell it? would you cross your legs when you sat or chew with your mouth closed?

     when you stop thinking about benign social law the mind has more breathing room for its thoughts to roam. a thought snowballed into reality, paranoia, an obsession, would you lose yourself. what really lies beyond the stars? i asked the crow, and he doesn’t know.

Nikon FM2
Carl Zeiss 28mm/2.8
Ilford XP2/HP5 ISO 400

self portraits