street riot

New Year's Eve. Holland. four young women are sitting behind a table, playing cards, drinking beer, a lamp above their heads. fifteen minutes before midnight, everyone starts to hurry to pull on stockings and a dress, put on mascara and lipstick, do not bother to tie up their boots, throw on coats, reach for the champagne bottle and rush down the stairs, to the street. the night is dark and foggy, the light of street lamps converges into fuzzy light orbs around the lamps. bang! bang! goes the fireworks, being shot into the sky, there are a lot of people on the street and they're ecstatic, drinking champagne, rocket sleeves and cartridge cases everywhere on the pavement; seems like there's no difference if it's the new year's or a street riot.

christmas with family

uni students have come home for christmas. there are three young adults on the table, a mother, and two small children. starting to have lunch, talking. suddenly, the 2-year-old vomits the entirety of his stomach on the table,  mostly grape juice, not noticing it himself at all. the students pull their plates closer to not get them wet. the 5-year-olf asks for bread from the table.

situation on the windowsill

three empty wine bottles, two water bottles, two beer bottles, one jar lid with hash ashes. a bit of ground coffee.

we'll make room for you

two close ones are sleeping on a mattress in an empty apartment. it's 3 AM, the room is pitch black, it's warm under the blanket. a phone suddenly rings. both wake up. a panicking friend is calling, crying that she cannot get into her apartment, because she doesn't have the keys and no one's answering. asking if she could spend the night there. "of course," one replies, "we'll make room for you." the sad friend comes up and makes herself comfortable between the two close ones. in the morning, the three of them go to her place to have pancakes.

students at the dorm

three alternative guys are sitting in a dorm room, watching south park, listening to music and talking about things. smoking a pipe. the room is very characteristic to a dorm room - full of soft furniture, the floor is covered with a random carpet, pots and foodstuff on the shelf, a computer in the corner. there are two beds in the room, a wallpaper and curtains that muffle sounds. there are two heavy dumbbells next to one of the beds. there are large bunches of grapes in several places. among other things, an old samovar is on the table. next to the pipe circle, a russian man in his 50's is doing his things, a physiotherapist in a very good shape, modest. not saying a word, only organizing his piles of paper on his bed and table.

conversation at breakfast

school canteen, late morning. sleepy high-school students find themselves around the same table, having second breakfast.
A: were you home last night?
B: no, I was at Y's... how come you don't know, where were you?
A: haha, I was at a party at X's. we did *socially unacceptable deeds*
B: us too :)

circus artists in the desert

I'm standing in the middle of a wasteland filled with concrete ruins under the nuclear sun in one corner of a massive stone plate, inside a circular hole. i'm juggling with one stone to whistle sounds, a strange hat on my head, he's playing a fife, hitting his boot to the beat. standing in front of me in the circular hole of the stone plate. the sun is shining on our head and making everything so light and devoid and hot. wind and silence and the fife, the stone making circles in my hand and air.