Ambitious slow lane swimmer blog is a writing exercise aspires to bubble away the underwater memories and gesture surrounded by this very melancholic blue.
We were meant to meet each other by the seaside, but we found the wrong place and came to the swimming pool.
There are so many times I was about to hit the wall of the pool I want to give up and leave and never return. The perpetuity of wasted strength, relapses, re-lap-ses.
Engulfed, moment frozen, he dived deep.
We, once shared the same womb, met at the stillness and quietness night, sometimes triggered, sometimes disquiet.
Return to our home pool: London Fields Lido in its glory. Morning swim. Adrift, Longing and Solace. Catching up with fellow swimmers and familiar faces, diving deep conversations in the locker room. Welcome home. Lido, you’ve been missed.
THE FINAL INSTALMENT OF BUDAPROSE TRILOGY:
Over the root top watching sunrise with my old man. From blessing to blissing. Art Deco promising.
THE SECOND INSTALMENT OF BUDAPROSE TRILOGY:
Being scrubbed on the marble table like feeling being a piece of flesh on the alter, the sacrifice of Isaac. Ottoman style.
The first instalment of Budaprose Trilogy:
Lightly on Ulrich Seidl, Béla Tarr and Yang Jian. Local bath goers playing chess, perpetually lost amongst the corridors. Product of Déjà vu, entering a vaguely Alain Robbe-Grillet / Resnais's L'année Dernière à Marienbad.
An early start invited by a French fellow ambitious slow lane swimmer.
Fiction: We are all searching the one who is willing to swim with you at the crack of dawn on a winter's Sunday.
From Joachim Trier to Roy Andersson to NRK TV Series, reflection on this generation's longing and dreams, cities and their indifferences.