I’ve always been afraid of the sound of the telephone. It means bad news. And no-one, especially me, wants bad news.
My phone, as it happens in many houses, is at the end of the corridor, like a totem, all alone on a table made just for it, as a king, the king who looks at his servants with disdain. The telephone controls us all, with its silence and its continuous black cloud of news, of bad news. From the moment you enter the house, you can feel its presence, the power it holds. If it was a person you could even see it scoffing at you, oh powerless mortal waiting forever for a call with the bad news you fear so much.
From some time now I’ve been noticing how people are really scared of failure, of seeking help (mostly in the workplace), finally of moving on and experiment. I’m not a good example of risk-taking (most of the time) but I do love to evolve, to move, to learn new things, I wouldn’t want to become … well, squared. I like to embrace accidents like this one. They might hide something magnificent.
I spend most of my time in different cafés, looking through my camera the clients, the mood, the coffee, all the stories that pop up into my mind while drinking a good served coffee. I always carry around a notebook, my fountain pen and the old analogue camera I got in a street market. I could use a smartphone but I feel it kills part of the fun, as I firmly believe that some things take time and the only way to enjoy them is by slowing down our steps.