Archive for the Photo Category

(SUR)real Georgia

Posted in Photo with tags , , , on 2015-09-22 by candycactus

Here is a collection of images from Georgia taken during prolonged stays in 2004-2012



Muziejaus 11-13. Things of No Importance

Posted in English, Photo, Stories and Tales with tags on 2014-02-08 by candycactus

This is probably the introduction to the book Muziejaus 11-13, which is an address of the place where I grew up.


I had a slight notion, that the place where I lived was special. But when it really entered my mind was when I was 13. I lived alone my myself and I will explain to you at some point later why. However, I was listening to Pink Floyd “The Dark Side of the Moon” on an old soviet vinyl player while writing my diary, as all at a sudden a flushing water sound entered my ears. It perfectly fitted to the music played, but it was the sound of real water really flushing into the apartment. The door bell started ringing without interruption. I made my way to the door to get help from neighbors and wondered what all this strange tingling in my body was about (it was electricity flushing down from the doorbell). Neighbors managed to get the water turned off. The rest I had to do myself. So, I went to a soviet neighborhood management office and asked for plumbers to fix the pipe. Wait, they told me.

After two weeks two remarkable guys appeared. One was very tall and thin, the other one was short and round. Both were in their years and drunk. They would have fitted into the comic to deliver the message that the job has no chance to be completed. But things took an unexpected turn. Petia, do you remember us being drunk in that corner once? Yeahh, I guess so, it has been a while, ugh?

It turned out that once they were guests of my grandfather, great poet and notorious drunkard. All nation must have passed by here once. I missed that era completely, since my grandfather died when I was just 4. But the same place happened to be a nod of trajectories crossing of many more people to come later.

A great percentage of my childhood time was dedicated to cook coffee for the guests. I had no idea who they were and I had not much idea about coffee since I did not drink any myself – I was a very young child –  but I must have been really good at it. Coffee Turkish way. Very low flame. Plenty of fresh grounded coffee, three times letting the foam come up. My mother would have been a good trainer and will breaker in any detention camp. However, after resisting to learn to deal with the fire, I gave in and was trained to cook probably the best coffee in town. At least this was what the guests would say, and note that these people were not particularly generous with compliments or any kind of superficial remarks as usual in some other parts of the world. At some point I didn’t mind this job. When people ask me when I started meditating I realize that it must have been around that time. Watching coffee cook very slowly.

Thus I witnessed the guests of Muziejaus 11-13 coming and going. Things of no importance. It just turns out that in a small country things of no importance make history.


This is me and my grandfather in Muziejaus 11-13. This and most of other photographs to be posted about Muziejaus 11-13 were take by my mother, a great photographer Dange Sirvyte



Posted in English, Photo with tags on 2013-09-12 by candycactus

Here is a selection of pictures about LIFE OF THINGS


No Name Picture

Posted in Caucasus, Photo, Poetry on 2012-11-14 by candycactus


Why Travel?

Posted in English, Photo, Stories and Tales, Travel diary with tags , , , , on 2012-03-31 by candycactus

“So, seems that you like to travel a lot? It did not look like this back then.”

I realized that it is difficult to convince someone that you actually hate traveling when what you are doing is constantly changing your geographical coordinates. How can you explain to anybody, that actually you think that tourism is a crime while you are in a different country every few months?

I suppose my home is this constantly evolving trajectory. I wish all this would be possible without leaving the few square meters – seeing the horizon, enjoying the red of the tomato on your bread in the sunshine, going to pee or washing your clothes as if every time doing this would be celebrating the mundane, being nobody, a nobody with the eyes of the new born calf? Then I would tell you the same as Fernando Pessoa:

“You want to travel? To travel you simply need to exist. In the train of my body or of my destiny I travel from day to day, as from station to station, leaning out to look at the streets and the squares, at gestures and faces, always the same and always different as, ultimately, is the way with all landscapes.

If I imagine something, I see it. What more would I do if I traveled? Only extreme feebleness of imagination can justify anyone needing to travel in order to feel.

Any road, this simple road to Entepfuhl, will take you to the end of the world.’ But the end of the world, once you’ve exhausted the world by going round it, is the same Entepfuhl from which you set out. In fact the end of the world, and its begin, is merely our concept of the world. It is only within us that landscapes become landscapes. That’s why if I imagine them, I create them; if I create them, they exist; if they exist, I see them just as I do other landscapes. So why travel? In Madrid, in Berlin, in Persia, in China, at the North and South Poles, where I would be other than inside myself, feeling my particular kind of feelings?

Life is whatever we make it. The traveler is the journey. What we see is not what we see but what we are.”

Fernando Pessoa: ” The Book of Disquiet”

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BOLIVIA in pics

Posted in Photo, Travel diary with tags , on 2012-02-21 by candycactus

more pics and

Speaking in PICS

Posted in Photo, Travel diary on 2012-02-16 by candycactus