In loving memory, 2020





Hercules Horizon, 2016

The Sea Conductor, 2020


First moon by Pitusiray, 2020


Decisive, 2019



Nemo, Mahahual, 2019

Phantasmagoria of magical beast, 2019


Untitled, 2019

Ghostly heads, 2019
Apparition I, 2015







Dreamwork day-

The minor eternity of quenching stars-


I fell asleep everywhere today as if the night had never existed


In the water

While getting dressed

I burned my nose in my coffee

Almost fell off my bike


Sleep will always be a time for dreaming and a matter of life and death



December 20XX

Close encounters, first encounters.

 I’m on the place where the meteor that wiped away the dinosaurs hits the Earth.





Apu Pitusirai.There’s an Inca myth involving two petrified lovers and the shadows tell it every year.

Everything here is storytelling.

The ground is the breathing ceiling of an ancient graveyard and the sky an infinite mirror.



The witching hour. The beauty of the north where you can walk inside the capsule of an hour called twi-

light past an enchanted ancient forest and up to a highest point (cause there was nothing between here

and the sky and our organic home is a sphere). Another kind of colonizers in search of a 10 000 year old

fir, who realized that history does not care about being rewritten, or even written to begin with, and most

importantly not about someone’s signature and less of all gender. History is constant being and becom-

ing and it is magnificent to be a part of its breath when it writes itself in a way that requires the multiple

kinds of consciousness filling up its every space. No one writes history: we can't helpt being it.


The strokes painted by every breathing motion pattern.


I want to keep my memory intact before the sun burns away the dream. The pulse of breath during sleep.

Like the two small (forbidden) tents at the top that breathed like creatures from the Mumindalen while

strangers dreamed inside and what I felt as I thought they would never know I watched them do that. No

one was ever there exactly when we were. That will never happen again.





There´s an urge to become the landscape.To give that act whatever time it needs to happen. And to know,

eventually, definitely, one day we will again.

No one will miss anyone and no one will fear death absorbing the landscape with veneration.