The big general picture (floodlight)
The small specific picture (spotlight)
Sleeping alone is boring, said Sunflower, a blind masseuse in Kampot.
The blind man plays a flute.
His young son leads him through life.
Music guides their quest.
Mindfulness, breathe, ease god out.
On the meridian of time there is no injustice; there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.
"The frame is like life. Life too only provides certain opportunities.
Film is like a square of life, it has the same boundaries.
I think film is more honest, because it owns up to being a limited space.
Life pretends to provide more opportunities, that's why it's a bigger lie."
-Fassbinder
Welcome to The Ministry of Tourism in Kampot.
It's near The Ministry of Fear and The Ministry of Truth.
You can't miss it.
It's next to The Genocide Museum. S-21.
2,000,000 skulls are waiting for you.
They are delighted to have company in their silent vigil.
Colonial French buildings will delight your memory of commercial conquest.
It's all a facade.
Kampot is a sleepy little southern river town.
It is famous for pepper. Pass the sneeze please.
Quack-quack.
Hold hands. Relationships are precious. Life is short.
Let's have a look-see.
Yes, it's true, said a free spirit in a free world. You have to break down before you break through.
The difference between the sense of hearing and the skill of listening is attention. Good lesson, said a listener.
Tell us a story about Cold Turkey.
It may interest you to know Turkey has the highest number of journalists in JAIL or PRISONS than any country in the world. More than China or Iran.
Sounds like a great place to speak your mind free from fear.
Yeah, free speech is cold in Turkey. Colder than leftovers.
What happened to open your head, open your heart and open your mouth?
Speaking free has it's risks. You can say that again. Censorship is alive and well. Best served cold.
Who cares? We can always go shopping.
I speak on the condition of anonymity because I am not authorized to reveal the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth or value meaning. So, help me. Help me. Truth is classified. The source of truth about Everything is classified.
Ossified.
I am authorized to say, with complete anonymity without revealing sources that truth is filtered, compartmentalized, abstracted, excerpted, sliced, diced, parsed, fossilized and classified inside a buried locked black box.
The crypto key is classified top secret, for your blind eyes only. A gravedigger has the combination, the algorithm. The encrypted key is not on a hacked social network site designed to distract your faceLost, mind, heart or Spacebook personal profile timeline. Lost time.
If only time would behave and stay inside the lines the world would be a safer, saner place. As if place cares. Real friends are a dime a dozen few and far between. Truth, as Pessoa said, has few friends and they are suicides. Artificial friends are aliens on life support.
The key, for the Time Being, is inside the sharp arrow of time flying into Greater Complexity.
A woman, man, child somewhere in Cambodia, or XYZ carries the world on their back. They are the key.
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