Hello World, this is my first journal entry in Mumbai, and as I write this, I realize how my eyesight has been getting foggier by the day. They say it is age and computer use. I would agree, except I suspect the worsening aspect of it is caused by lack of personal care, which I have excelled at in the last 5 years.

It is much easier than that one thinks to be derailed from one life source, needs, and mission and find oneself forever chased after by obligations, bureaucratic mayhems, forever inflicted by last-minute emergencies, and other absurdities. All of these are of no interest to you yet capable of disrupting one life if left unattended.

This is especially true when one finds oneself in the role of a caregiver (in my case, my elderly parents), which doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m not allowed to care for myself, but it is a trap we all fall into. That is why some people dream of vacations, and I dream of time and energy to care for myself.

This project in Mumbai is an act of self-care by immersion into a creative and exploratory process in total freedom and disregard for structures. An intellectual and creative spa to fill up the tanks and regenerate my life sources. As I dialogue with Captain Julius, I feel the exchange of care, love, and healing energy. I sense the tingles in my ears, the sparks at my fingertips, and the inebriating sense of aperture and possibilities.

So, as Mumbai wraps me up into a heavy coat of humidity, spices, fumes from street foods, piss, beauty, ominous colonial architecture covered over by unapologetic banyan tree, and joyful people of all ages playing animated cricket games, my site starts to clear, and while still in the fog, I doge the cricket ball, comfortably ride the trained with wide open doors like everybody else, welcoming the wind and the oxygen I have been deprived of all this time.

For that, I want to thank you, Vijay and Irena, for your trust in me and for inviting me here.
May the fog be my guide.

PS All image are created with chatGPT using the description:close up of a Mumbi street wrapped into a heavy coat of humidity, street foods kiosks , ominous colonial architecture fully covered by banyan trees, and people of all ages playing cricket.