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somewhere over the rainbow (and other stories)

  Exactly two years ago I found myself flying through a corner of a rainbow, and landed in Oaxaca, Mexico. It was the last film festival I traveled to, a brutal and sweet experience in the harshest of realities, trying to wrap my arms around the slipperiest industry and failing magnificently. Surrounded by fresh faces and eager eyes I ran from the rooms and into the street time and again, wandering off with the camera in my bag as a companion. I took pictures of a blind man that sang on the same corner every day, of wedding parades, of an old woman waiting to see the dentist.  Literally somewhere over the rainbow, I met the ugliest answers to questions I had been dragging my feet towards for years. Cramming the most delicious food into my mouth, joking at the nightly rooftop cocktail parties, grinning like the Cheshire Cat it was all coming to an end. Actually, it had ended before it even started though - and on the plane back to New York and finally Moscow the bone-crunching undertow
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through the rain and cold


What is it like, that first whiff of freedom after months, years in captivity? How do those prisoners stretch, and walk as if for the very first time? The imagination runs wild, and none of it can be true because no one can really know what it is like. We all have our troubles, the cages we rattle, the lunch thrown at us that we chew, all gristle and the same as the day before. But honestly, no one can know another person's pain. There is just pain, and the absence of it.

Sometimes our imaginations play a dangerous game, pretending to know what cannot be known. It just needs to smell like the truth - in an anecdote told at cocktail parties, in a script, on a plane, in a midnight confession to a stranger. The truth is elusive and cannot always be caught.

You can describe how it smells and tastes, how it feels rubbing the wrong away against your skin like cheap velvet. But this is just a handful of words. The reader makes it true. The reader breathes life into fiction and carries it with them through the rain and cold.

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