Lately I have often had this song in my mind, King Season by C2C, they say „Time is running, running“ and then ask „Is it the very end of something or is it just the beginning?“. Yes, time is running indeed. Caro has left Monday night and surprisingly I really felt a bit lonely when I got back home from the airport. The house seems to be very clam these days. I woke up this morning after a long and dreamless sleep, it was too hot as Harmattan is slowly disappearing and we are getting back to spine dripping heat again. I feel that I can’t catch up with myself, I want to write more, I haven’t been writing for almost a week now, I mean my stuff, this stuff, here, I have to work on my film now and before it even has begun I already feel overwhelmed. In two weeks time this will be over. At least I hope so. I mean, in two weeks time I want this to be over and to let go and just fall into the arms of Jérémy and my holidays.

For the second half of her stay, Caro and I stayed in Accra and I tried to show her as much as I can apart from the office. We saw the hustle and bustle of Makola Market, went to Afrikiko where we didn’t dance but had a bad Pizza, performed an absolutely sovereign walk over the arts centre market and baked some cake. In the end, this whole baking plan didn’t turn out as well as expected so that our last night out was rather short but at least we have made some extraordinary experience that nobody can take away from us.

There is something in my stomach and I wonder if it is another parasite or just the very nasty feeling of looking at pictures which you actually don’t want to look at and engaging with stuff you actually don’t want to engage with and I guess I am doing something absolutely wrong here. Sometimes I envy my parents so much for having their twenties in the eighties where you could still just say „over, passed, never again“ and social media would not creep in from one corner of your mind seducing you to look further, exploiting your curiosity like some dodgy drug dealer. I try to condition myself and be my own Pavlov’s dog, no more such stomach-ache-washroom-running-mirror-looking-scream-wanting, I have to work and working is good. Still, I sometimes feel I am caught in some invisible spiral, it is kind of flowing around me most of the time but when I try to get out I notice that there is something that throws me back, even when I think I finally managed I fall back again, everything breaks down on me and I have to start again by collecting all the pieces and sorting them out. I do want to sort the bad seeds out finally, I really do and I thought I already have and everything is fine and calm now. One central piece is missing which I can’t collect and can’t sort out and I can never find this alone. Sometimes I really have to force myself to to believe in karma. Maybe I should finally watch Disney’s Frozen. Let it go, let it go.

On Tuesday I had my first encounter with the studio I am working at for the next couple of days until my new project is finished. It is actually Francis‘ apartment, pretty relaxed and charmingly gloomy, working conditions are horrible with the generator blasting out noise in indescribable sound levels and no internet available but I am trying, trying as always, I want it to be perfect as always although the feeling in my stomach towards the whole thing again is not the best. But then I think of Teddy Roosevelt and do what I can with what I have where I am, put my headphones on, listen to some „Can’t stop me“-tune and just do it. That’s the final rush pressure, I guess. And the disappearing Harmattan. And the fear of the end. Not a very fancy cocktail.

But I feel I have to tell more, I sound like Nietzsche by now, I am not at all nihilistic. Francis told me about Annecy yesterday and showed me the project he is applying with, that would be next June, he said Annecy is just beautiful, I should ask my boyfriend. When I got home at night I felt like getting some fruit so I stopped at a little shop close to home where I have never bought fruit before. It turned out that the boy who was selling me the pineapple, cutting it carefully and smiling at me in the most friendly and innocent way, was deaf-mute. There was something about this guy that caught my attention, I couldn’t help but wanting to speak with him, in any possible way. When I paid he pointed his hand telling me not yet to leave and took his phone from his pocket. While I was still wondering how he was even able to call somebody, he was typing something and showing me: „please where do you live?“. I showed him and he added „in USA“ to his text and when I realised that he couldn’t really read my lips I wrote down „Germany“. He then replied „safe travel“ and smiled at me. The lady behind him interfered a bit rudely at first, telling me strictly that he can’t talk but watching our written conversation she seemed to trust finally when I waved them good-bye. I was extremely touched. In a way, although I am not religious at all, I felt kind of blessed by that guy. I really thought that I had a „moment“ with him. I want to give him a book as a present or at least tell him that I think he has a good soul. I think I am getting really sentimental these days. Well you know, it could be the end of something or just the beginning.

Again I have just got home. I have been writing on this article for a couple of days now. When the little neighbour girl sees me, she says challenging „Oboruuuni!“ and I respond „Obibiiiini!“, it is a kind of game by now. I know my tailor, I know my convenience store lady, everybody in one street and it feels weird that I am now leaving in less than six weeks. I’ve grown accustomed to all that and I like it. But just around the river bend there might be something cool waiting, that’s how we learn it from Pocahontas.

Anyways, today I feel better, I work hard and put on my headphones and smile at people, I discuss with guys that turn out to be roommates in the apartment where I work and I like this Ghanaian-Bohemian-lifestyle at the moment, yes, we are artists and so we are Bohemians, that’s what I was told today and I want to move to Paris. Yes, I would love that. Jérémy, you know that and Francis said „Oh, you must really love your boyfriend to follow him to Paris“. Yes, I do. And I want you to come here finally, please hurry, please be safe and please bring me cheese. I know you are too busy to read that but at least it won’t seem to cheesy then. 😉

I want to sleep now. The heat is unbearable but I kind of like it. Sitting on the back seat of a Taxi at night with the tepid wind blowing over your face.