To write about your plans is to infuse your future self in shame. Here, then: I wake up every morning thinking I need to start doing something else, counting the hours I need to stay awake. As most of my peers, I’m suffering from depression. I find myself thinking „Art is not the problem nor the solution.“ I love art, just as I like sports, but I don’t believe in taste, skill, or that individual artists matter that much (?). There are other issues more pressing. Art is something I ended up doing. I might as well not do it this time next year. I’ll pick up anything that pays, or keeps me going in some way. How did you end up here? I’m terribly scared of coming over to Cologne pretending that 1. I have something to give to you, 2. it’s somehow super easy for me to receive what you want to give. To be open is not the same as accepting change or accommodating other voices. To let others in, in a way that doesn’t destroy you: how? We have a few hours together. I’m not sure if doing this is a good idea, whether we all should be doing something else. But I’ve promised, you got to, we’re here, this is what we do with our time, and on it goes. Let’s stay true about being in a space together.

Moods: Bitter, anti-productive, nihilist, loving, desperate, depressed, posi, lost, serious, giving up, mortal, present.

Lastly: I’ve done this before, and I’ll make sure we’ll be OK, however deep we might find ourselves in.