I’m one to preach loudly and stand for what I believe.
I’m the one that I will point to injustice.
I am the one that tonight also feel bad for pointing the finger at someone who I have contrary views to while they put themselves in the public eye to defend those views even though they are ‘out there’.
I don’t like confrontation but learning to present what I believe in more confidently.
Yet that’s only possible when the other party stretches out so they can hear clearer.
Because without that, nothing would ever be possible.
The post is devoted to my day today at the School of Oriental and African Studies, yet it is written with an individual in mind, unrelated to my day at the university, yet being a member of the uni.
They surprised me beyond all expectations.
I suppose, that’s the true Soasian style.
Westward from the ferry port for destinations to the Cyclades and Crete, the port of Pireaus has a few hidden surprises.
Boats get larger and the space wider, abandoned warehouses as a backdrop, grafitti and murals galore.
The Chinese Road and Belt initiative will be redeveloping this area and on a beautifully sunny autumnal Sunday morning, I could not find an excuse to not document the blue of the sea with the yellows and blues of the ferries and the brownish grey concrete warehouses overshadowing the port streets.
I can’t predict what the port will look like in the future development, however I know for sure, the colourful ferries will still be floating on the beautiful coloured sea all the same.
I am back at the university studying full time twenty years after the last time I was in formal education.
There are some things that have changed since. I’m not lacking of confidence. And I have work experience on the subject. Did I think I would be an alien, at least a decade older than the majority of the students? Yes. And I can see some twenty years old students talk the theory but weak in joining the dots. Then there are exceptions, the smart ones. That put the hours in and build coherence across perspectives and layers. And the professors the Bank of knowledge of recalculations across parallel universes, the poets that make you laugh, worry, question, empower.
Do the 20 something year olds see what I see?
I’m emerged, taken, absorbed.
The weight of information is frying my brains, I can feel the heat emitting. I feel like a Nick Cave song. Poverty, testosterone, rebirth, death, crisis, grouping, introspection, self and sense check.
I can see again and with that I came to find a purpose for the frame I hold in my hands as I type.
Here are the shots from the first month in uni. After 20 years. Just as my memories from the first time, fading away in the distance, this somehow has poured new colours on to it.
On the first chilly day of autumn, I walked out of the house for work to find my brain clicking into Camden cravings.
I’m not talking about the food options, the bashing vibes, the shopping or drinking ports.
That would be too much detail.
I’m talking about the warming feeling I get when I’m here.
In Camden Town, at sunset, on a crisp day. It feels like belonging, it feels like home.
I could climb under the cobble stones and sleep there for the night.
And wake up to crawl back up from beneath them, to see Camden in sunrise.