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To Mask or Unmask

I found this mask lying on the ground during one of last week’s walks. I wondered if it had been dropped by mistake or discarded purposely.

Some people seem to be so fed up with the pandemic that they embrace all kinds of conspiracy theories. Whether or not they believe in the science, those folks need to ask themselves the singular question; in what way are the immunologists, virologists, and other healthcare professionals profiting from keeping the pandemic “alive”?

I can totally see how “big pharma” would want us all to get inoculated from the coronavirus, preferably encouraging everyone to have a booster dose injected every year. That makes perfect business sense.

I can appreciate all the sacrifices so many billions of people have to make even though “only” 10% of the population gets seriously ill. But how could we possibly accept this cynical stance and just keep on going as if those that got sick didn’t matter – just as long it didn’t affect our daily lives?

I think many of those subscribing to the various conspiracy theories about the virus are just about as lost and tired as the above-used mask.


Infected Friend & Chaos

A composition I located yesterday on yet another anonymous, interesting surface somewhere in Lund, Sweden. The layered, cluttered chaos intrigues me. I suppose pieces like this attract me as I live – elastically – between a reasonable amount of structure and uncontrollable chaos. Creatively, that is.

Mere days after pointing out here that I have yet to personally know of anyone that had been infected by Covid-19, did we learn that a friend is now hospitalized, unconscious, and breathing through a respirator.

We haven’t seen him or his wife since last spring, when Elle graduated High School, but this very sad news obviously shoved Charlotte and myself into a state of shock – just as I assumed it would. Our hopes and thoughts are with him and his family. Everybody, please be safe out there.


The Known and Unknown

From yesterday’s walk along the beach here in Vejbystrand. Cold, windy yet stunningly beautiful. So far, far away from the turmoil and chaos of many of the world’s great cities and many of my favorite destinations. Thankfully, neither Charlotte or I know of anybody that has caught the virus yet. I doubt that statistic will hold indefinitely. It’s kind of like with Trump supporters, you know they are out there, in droves, even. And one day, you might actually meet someone that has been infected with his venomous rhetoric. If and when that day arrives, I’m guessing it’s going to feel a lot like being in an episode of the original Twilight Zone.

I speak to a lot of Americans – wherever I am. I just can’t help myself. As soon as I hear an American accent (or, a Canadian), I’m in their face asking them where they come from, where they’ve been and where they are heading. Yet oddly, so far, I’ve not come across a real-life MAGA supporter in any of my travels. Not that I survey the political views of people I meet when abroad…but still.

I’m well aware that there are tens of millions of “normal” Americans among his base. Most seem to cherrypick the stuff that serves their personal narrative and agenda and just ignore much of what comes out of his chaotic, erratic and dysfunctional administration, and the endless flow of mostly degenerate, often racially charged, quips and tweets he heaves round the clock.

I doubt I’ll meet a Trump supporter in Vejbystrand. The locals here are way too sensible to bite into the pile of crap he’s trying to feed the rest of the world. No, to get someone that can coherently defend the blustering, self-congratulatory, master conman, I’d have to fly to the States. And that ain’t going to happen for quite a while. Hopefully, by the time it becomes doable, there’ll be a new president. An older dude, for sure. But at least one with the right stuff: decency, empathy, and intelligence.


Back in Lund today. Sunshine everywhere. Hard to think apocalyptically when the weather is so damn wonderful. Spoke to an old buddy who’s a lawyer and he’s keeping busy. Lots of separations and negotiations. Ae we are holding our breaths? Is the situation going to get a lot worse before getting better?

Another friend told me of a new Swedish airline starting up soon. Sounds hopeful. I feel hopeful. Optimistic, even. Perhaps I’m in denial and not even aware of it. I don’t let my mind swerve too much of Sanity Lane. What purpose would that serve? None. Another friend told me he enjoyed not having to deal with crowds. That he didn’t miss having to share public spaces with others. I totally get that. Like the author Charles Bukowski once wrote, “It’s not that I don’t like people. I just feel better when they’re not around”.

I think that’s pretty much the collective sentiment of my demographic right now.

Shot the above while wandering aimlessly around town this afternoon after the shoot. I tried really hard to get lost today. But Lund is just too small.


Leaning Left

Though a capitalist out of necessity, I am clearly a left-leaning liberal at heart. Honestly, I can’t understand how you could possibly be anything else. I sincerely hope that once we see the light at the end of this dark, threatening tunnel, that a considerably more humane, empathetic perspective emerges among those in power.

The picture above is composed of photos from within my archive.


Dualism

As I mentioned just before canceling my accounts on December 31st, 2019, I no longer participate in Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or any other social media platform. Yet I have somehow managed to persuade a few fine friends and chosen family members to communicate with me via iMessage, email and WhatsApp. I don’t mind having to switch between the three. But if I had my way, we’d all use email. I love writing and receiving emails. Writing an email feels close to old school letter writing – which I did a lot of in my younger years. Which kind of makes me feel ancient.

The coronavirus pandemic has disrupted so many people’s lives, including ours. It’s hard to grasp the scope of it yet. I think we might just be seeing the very tip of an enormous iceberg – the beginning of a multi-year, planet-wide, chain of events that will have a seemingly endless ripple effect on most everyone. How folks in the developing world and the poorest are going to be able to cope is a question I keep asking myself. There’s no optimistic answer, I fear. So many countries around the world are run by a bunch of autocrats, dictators, and despots, men that are either suppressing virus facts and stats and/or just looking the other way, ignoring a problem they are incapable of addressing. Their biggest concern is not the health of the country they strongarm but rather how the crisis might affect the power they wield.

Shot the above image somewhere in Asia a few years ago.


Sheep Respite

It’s not without us feeling a little guilt and understanding that we are supremely privileged right now. Meeting spring in Vejbystrand is always wonderful – and especially so this year.

Within just a few weeks, the designation “rural” has metamorphosed into something positive and worth embracing. We’re whole-heartedly enjoying our current small-scale lifestyle.

It’s hard, but I’m trying to keep the news at a fair distance. All the dramatic headlines deplete my optimism.

The misery of miseries, as my old aunt Lillemor always said when a disaster occurred somewhere in the world – as in the world’s brimming refugee camps, where health care is limited and risk of contamination always imminent.

The earth’s population is currently living under the shadow of uncertainty. The future looks dire in almost every direction. I feel particularly for the many people that already had it tough before all this and who cannot comprehend how to cope with all the additional burdens the virus has brought with it.

Yesterday we took a long walk along the beach and on our way home stopped to greet three fluffy sheep living carefree in one of the village’s forest groves. The meeting gave some respite from the constant flow of reports about tragedies in Bergamo, Madrid and New York.

So far we are living relatively protected here in Vejbystrand and sincerely hope that this nightmare will soon be over.

Be safe!


Summer Time

When I opened my eyes this morning, I saw a sliver of bright yellow sunlight protruding through the blackout curtains hanging over our bedroom window. I went to sleep unusually early last night and felt initially a little confused by the light. Had I slept in? It was Sunday, so no big deal if I had. For some reason, I remembered about the time change, that we are now officially in the summertime.

Though the pandemic is omnipresent online and in much of everyday small talk, I find that it still easily falls out of focus. I suppose that’s because we are here on the coast in Vejbystrand, so near to nature in an environment barely stirred by humans. I’m thankful that the reminders are few, at least when compared to urban dwellings. On the other hand, we kind of miss the “comfort” of having an abundance of neighbors – to share fears and hopes with – and we are at least a half an hour from the nearest ICU, if or when the shit really hits the fan.

Aside from probably lacking the emotional capacity and having zero skills, I still wish I had something to contribute to the healthcare field with right now.

The other day, a friend pointed out an interesting aspect of the unfolding situation to me. During her maternity leave, the restaurant she worked for as a manager went bankrupt. Just as her yearlong leave was about to end – but before the coronavirus took center stage – she had several interesting job offers, was hired by a bakery/café chain and set to go back to work in early March. Three weeks ago, her new employer laid her off. But with the fallout from the virus, she now feels somewhat relieved for having an unquestionably valid explanation of why she’s still not able to find a job.

I think we’ll be hearing more of former presidential candidate Andrew Yang’s thoughts on “UBI” a Universal Basic Income, a citizen’s dividend where a government guarantees that everyone receives a minimum salary. Defining “citizen” will obviously become a sticking point and while I think most sensible people in the world will abide and adjust to just having enough means to survive, it’s going to be really tough for most Americans to grasp what the concept of “basic” even means.

Shot these Easter flowers during a long beach walk the other day. Heard via the BBC that Kenya’s flower industry is disastrous with approximately 500.000 directly and indirectly affected and now out of work. As if life wasn’t already tough enough for them. Fuck.


Hugless, Kissless and Shakeless – but not Hopeless

Wow, are these weird times, or what? Who would have thought that streets in entire cities would be more or less empty, seemingly abandoned? That even the most basic human social behavior would take such a colossal hit? Are we the last of those that will remember what a superficial cheek kiss, a fleeting hug, and a vigorous handshake feels like? Will this make even the slightest physical contact feel forbidden and therefore somehow even erotic? Post-coronavirus social ordinance might just well dictate a whole new set of judicial and social rules to abide by. Or, to totally disobey. If the virus is really a threat to our very existence, then I think disobedience is the only option. We’re fucked, so who cares, right?

Seriously though. This pandemic will probably leave long-term social and financial disruption in its wake. Social distancing, virtual offices, online meetups as well as homeschooling will leave the fringes and likely become preferable and dominating alternatives in our new, hunker down, shelter in place society. Maybe we’ll even abandon our megacities and migrate en masse back to the countryside, where a rural, agriculturally focused and physically demanding, yet healthier lifestyle, awaits. Or, maybe we’ll stay in our urban environments but isolate ourselves even more than now. Transform our apartments into bunkers that we rarely leave.

Speaking of bunkers…

The above collage is from photos I took at an old Stasi headquarters on the outskirts of Leipzig, Germany that I visited a few years ago during a press trip. I shot most of the photos deep down in a bunker intended for polittruks in Erich Honecker’s DDR. Interestingly, there were exercise bikes hooked up to supply electricity to the bunker’s phones as an alternative to the facility’s diesel generator.