Not quite

Dahl's short story in which the trees screamed, for in this exhibition the trees were musical.

The finishing touches

to my outdoor exhibition (with hours to spare).

The dancing photographer

at the opening of his exhibition (it is good to know I am not the only one).

I have absolutely

no idea who Calla is, but she sure managed to get some emotions out of this guy.

It must be about time

for me to do a poetry reading soon.

Welcome to Merlin's

mysterious world, somewhere in the depths of the Ljubljana Puppet Theatre. 

I missed

the first band, but heard the entire set of the second one - sometimes you just get distracted by life (but one can allow for such occurrences when one is not working on the night).

Red poppy fields

revisited, this time without all the people, just a quiet exhibition.

With her voice

she made us all a bit wobbly in our knees.

I was sitting

next to, what I can only assume, was the official photographer for the evening. Unfortunately he was quick firing, shooting like he was paid per byte (or trying to make a stop motion film of the entire evening), which not only put me off photographing but also put me off enjoying the performances.

This time

we were rooting against human trafficking, so we supported a good cause and went to a concert at the same time... I missed the first band, and one band missed us (die to illness in the band), but I saw these ones and I will show a photo of each as they all did their bit for a good cause :

 Marta Kosturska & Ethnusiasm

 Pliš & Murat

 Niet

 Zlatko

(And yes, looking at the photos it does seem that the singer is usually the frontman (or woman) of the band)

A nice

small international gang in a local bar.

Dolores

sure knew how to pick men.

It seems

I am currently more in the mood for small intimate concerts than large venues.

Morrisey

this is the best I can do with my small camera, from far away (it has been a long time since I went to a concert with only my small camera)...

We live

in dark times.

Genesis

was overcrowded with dancers.

Sappho's poetry

for the second day in a row. Am I a lucky man or what?

The poetry

of Sappho.

Sometimes

it is just the layout of the performance and the lighting that turns you from a spectator to a performer.

One of

Chekhov's three sisters, leaving.

Sometimes you just need to take that step

and hope it takes you in the right direction.

(I guess I should listen to my advice at least once in a blue moon)

Unfortunately

we were all tired on this Friday night, so we didn't manage to stay for the last band. But we managed to see the first four bands and here are a few shots from them...

Your gay thoughts

Stojan Knežević

Haiku Garden

Wanda & Nova deViator

(afterwards I drove a car of sleeping or half-asleep people back to Ljubljana - luckily I was one of those who was only half-asleep)

It was a strange combo

First Rykarda gently lowered us into a soft melancholic mood which made one (I am definitely not telling you lot who) want to look deep into the eyes of the girl standing alongside and tell her just how fucked up this world is and that maybe, just maybe, the world would be a slightly better place if the two of you had a crack at it, and the girl swaying in the dark next to you felt the exact same as Rykarda's The loneliest girl in the world was resonating through the darkness...
But before you got round to actually explaining this to that girl the room was awakened by

the way more energetic and trashy (not in a bad way) girls who absolutely insist on having your child. The difference in the mood was hard to grasp (and even harder to explain), but in the end I managed to master it (even though I might have wanted to stay in the original melancholic mood).