The buzz of Slovenian music

The emptiness of the scene, its lack of quality and diversity, the awfulness of the general taste. Nope, don’t know what you’re talking about… I think you’re just looking the wrong way!

I choose love.

I’m done, I’m over responding with hatred and anger and scorn and fear and cynicism, I’m just done. I choose love, even when that means silence, even when that doesn’t necessarily mean hope.

Ljubljana.

The city that will always, no matter how I try to escape it, be my home. The one where I’ll notice the little things and the little people who have changed or haven’t.

No muses here. Just people.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with being a muse, quite the opposite, to be inspiring is a privilege. Nevertheless, I believe it’s wrong to be reduced to one, to shrink one’s existence to a dependence on the other.

Santiago de Chile.

Charming isn’t the word I would ever use for this city, a hauntingly stretched metropolis if you view it and its ever spreading horizons from Cerro San Cristóbal. But then there is a certain feel of delight in the streets of my favourite quarters…

Vernon.

Vernon is where you step off the train from Paris if you go to Giverny, visiting Monet’s garden. Since it is on your way, why not take its streets for a quick walk and find houses, carrying history on their walls.