Impressions – Mrtvice Canyon – The “Canyon of Little Dead Things”

The good luck I’m having on this trip is getting close to truly absurd, or my guardian angel is getting way too good in his job (he’s pretty well-trained anyway). It’s too weird, I do stuff most people with common sense wouldn’t even start thinking about (going up slippery mountains just after a cloudburst, yes, alone, hiking (yes, alone) into a canyon the tourist office deemed too risky to not do in a group, hitchhiking after dark in a country where I don’t speak the language) and I experience the most wonderful stuff and meet the most awesome people…

Today I met a 60+ guy, the last guy still living in his village. I had to walk over his land to get to my goal of today. So, within 2 minutes, I sit in his orchard, with a cat on my lap, tasting his self-made raki, honey from the local bees, and a few fresh apples. Within no time, we exchange life stories, and I almost forget I wanted to hike. He walks me to the right path, and tells me he’ll make food for me when I come back. Since I still would need to hitchhike 35 kms back, I didn’t want to say yes. I start descending to Danillov Most, a medieval bridge. Not easy to find, you had to fight a few bushes 🙂 The road crossing the bridge didn’t lead anywhere, just to forest paths.

I have a most amazing hike in that hidden canyon… Mrtvice Canyon. Later some people told me it translates to “the canyon of little dead things”. Well…. it sure is alive: the climate in the canyon is steady all year around, warm and VERY wet. And no people, so nature can go wild. The trees grow beards, the moss can grow wildly, and create a true “Moss Cathedral”. To get there, you have to cross some private property, and the owner hung signs everywhere to point this out to the few people trying to reach the canyon. I didn’t meet him, and anyway, the wonderful elder guy who lived at the beginning of the canyon and invited me in his house had given me a “freepass” 🙂

I found the “Gate of Wishes”, a strange rock formation with a view on the unreal blue water of the river. This is where I met the only other hikers, who were followed by some local puppies :). And this is where I left a piece of my heart…. One of the most hidden treasures (& not easy to find!). The path I was taking was not risky at all, just, well… don’t stumble :). Made by the partisan army during WWII. Very grateful to them, since otherwise I couldn’t have hiked there. It’s not a canyon for rafting. Water, however, always finds a way. No matter how big the rocks are which are trying to block its flow. Sometimes, you only realize the size of a block of stone in the river in comparison with the trees around it.

Going out of the narrow part of the canyon, found a way down the forest to the old wooden bridge (with roman fundaments!), had to get up through more bushes again and another sorta-bridge made out of a few logs. Again, no roads lead from or to it, just forest paths.

It’s close to dark when I pass his house, but I just had to say goodbye to him. Within 1 minute however, I sit in his orchard, with a cat on my lap, a fresh huge cup of turkish coffee, that honey, great cheese of the local cows, and more apples. And the guy tells me he’s very sorry, but he doesn’t offer meat, since he’s a vegetarian, and all he needs he gets from his garden, or trades (he makes his own raki.. good stuff.. even in montenegro he sells it for 20 euros/liter).

Ok, how lucky can you get? In the middle of nowhere, I meet a vegetarian… a 60+, almost toothless raki-maker, who pretty soon after I trespassed discussed the situation of the refugees in europe with me… Oh, and he has a well-equipped guesthouse in the middle of nature. He doesn’t “run” it, since he asks no money for it, maybe a donation or what people are willing to pay. This guy, who grew up in the half-wilderness in a country like Montenegro, is a vegetarian, and lives the principles of the solidarity economy to the max..

Of course, it gets really dark, so he gets me in his 42-year old, Never would have found it if not local people stopped their car and gave me directions, Tito-car, drives me to the bigger road, and no, he will stay with me until I get a ride.. Which I in the end got from two Montenegrin police guys after their shift :). And I say goodbye to another friend I just made (though I guess from his side, and the amount of pats on the head (!) he gave me, I got adopted…)

And I already was so lucky today… After two busdrivers refused to take me with them to drop me in the small village on the road between Kolasin and Podgorica, I decided to hitchhike. After all, I got a spontaneous ride when I came back from the mountains in the dark yesterday. Got a ride pretty quickly from a guy who I made really happy because of me constantly omg-ing when we turned around the corner & the next beautiful mountain view. He dropped me off in the village, after asking in a local pub where it was best to drop me. Started walking (I had a vague internet description, and knew the path would be hard to find), a few cars drive by, stop, and ask me where I want to go. In between two old iron bridges, I walk past a woman waiting near a crossroad, turns out one of the drivers stopped there, and asked her to give me directions in english.. Never would have found it if not local people stopped their car and gave me directions.

And these are just a few examples… I keep meeting such absurd friendly people… it almost scares me 🙂

Rant – Don’t panic. Organize.

(warning, long read… this is a resume of just a few days of intense, personal, experiences…)

The past week I traveled against the stream of the refugees, saw the actual situation in the improvised camps & talked to a lot of local and international people on the way.

I’m no journalist. Just a simple human being. I have hardly any words for what I saw, getting off the train in Budapest, seeing the border situation between Hungary & Serbia, the people literally sleeping on the streets and in parks in Belgrade.

Again and again, I bumped into a heavily changing situation. In Budapest, the border fence being closed, and arriving while the people were protesting “this is not my country”. Leaving Budapest at the moment all the trains in the direction of Western Europe were stopped. Entering Serbia, and the now closed border at Subotica. And on a smaller scale, the first rain & cloudburst in Belgrade, and the refugee camp being soaked.

If you witness this, you can do three things. And I did all three. I’ve cried. I’ve hardened my heart and walked on. And I did some small things, to help just a few people…

But basically. Don’t panic. Organize.

Ok, let me make one thing clear from the start. No matter how desperate the situations of the refugees sometimes was, what is so frikkin great is the amount of support, both material, moral, political and in many other ways. . And no matter how bad the politics of a country seem to be, and Hungary is unfortunately one of the greatest examples, this does NOT represent, at least what I witnessed, and from the people I talked with, the general opinion of the people.

Of course, I might be biased in who I meet. But also in the hostels where I was staying, and I seemed to have a great talent for picking hostels where the refugees literally slept in the doorway, I’ve not heard one negative word about them. More a lot of understanding, and a wish to help… And this is seen everywhere in Europe.

There is no migrant or refugee “crisis” (statistics told us this long ago). This is not even a political crisis, though a xenophobe minority tries to present it that way. It’s a politician’s crisis.

Every time some politician shouts “not in my backyard” or screams to close the borders, there’s an uproar from all corners of the people they should represent. Every corner. Even the most unexpected ones.

Football-fans holding up huge banners with “refugees welcome”. The frikkin Bild-tabloid starting a campaign in favor of refugees. The people from a far-from-the-heat-country such as Iceland who put up the middle finger towards their government which only wanted to take up 50 refugees. People in germany starting an “AirBnB”site for refugees. The rich-people-village of Haren in the Netherlands which as one of the first communal governments says to the dutch national government: no, closing the borders and deporting people is not the solution, stick it with your laws, send them here, to us, to our backyards. People from Austria who, after 5 people were arrested in Hungary for bringing refugees over the border (no, these were not the money-grabbing smugglers, these were dedicated people) organized a convoy for next Sunday, and already over 2,000 drivers (ok, it’s facebook, so maybe 100 will actually show up….) have said they will join the convoy to go to Hungary and load the refugees in their cars & vans.

Don’t panic. Organize.

This is not even counting all the initiatives I have seen popping all over my facebook timeline. For Calais. For the refugees on the LaGeSo in Berlin. To protect the refugees there, where they are unfortunately met by aggression and intolerance in small villages in Germany. People who physically block the cops trying to deport refugees in Germany and Holland. All the stuff happening after the eviction of the refugee camps on Oranienplatz, and all the small initiatives in every neighborhood to “support your local refugee”, also after a refugee’s request is denied and his stay has become illegal. The huge turnup a few months ago when the “Center for polical beauty”decided to literally turn the lawn in front of the german parliament into a graveyard, and thousands of people digging makeshift with their hands, and peacefully protecting this “cemetery” against the cops.

I saw the pictures from when the refugees started walking from Budapest to Austria, how many individual people decided to bring food and water on the route. I’ve met the people who, even in not very wealthy countries, work their asses off to support the refugees with food, shelter and clothing. I’ve met people when traveling who risk their lives and their freedom to get refugees over the border, who break the fences again, and who have been to northern Africa and on the Mediterranean sea to literally pick up refugees and save them from drowning. They showed me the pictures of children, up to age 13, in overfilled prisons in Northern Africa… They told me stories, how they visit the deportation centers, and people shouting through the small holes in the doors: “I’m a doctor” “I’m a teacher”… They are imprisoned for fleeing a war.

Because Europe, the politicians say that “we”, the people, don’t want them here. Which, seeing the enormous amount of support, is simply NOT TRUE.

And the support is practical (food, shelter, clothing) but also political. Mostly practical at the moment. I luckily live in a city where there always has been a good “network” of small alternative initiatives. So it was relatively (relatively!) easy for these little hubs in the network to finetune their normal activities (the foodsaving, the huge network of re-using and sharing-economy, the many initiatives which exist to support homeless people..) for that which was needed for example on the LaGeSo.

This isn’t the same everywhere. In many places, the people who want to support the refugees (independent from governmental or bigger official organizations) have to start from scrap. And that’s frikkin hard.

But you know what? These small, unprofessional, spontaneous, local initiatives seem to work a lot better, are a lot more flexible and efficient, than many “official” organizations, let alone the governments. Don’t panic. Organize.

It seems the “general public”, the laymen, have a better idea about how to handle the situation, or are at least a lot quicker to learn by doing, than the, well.. dinosaurs. And though these small initiatives started very local, I don’t know if it is my bias, since I was literally traveling from situation to situation, it seems they are spreading like ink stains, and it slowly seems to become an actual, international, network…

At the moment, I see a lot of initiatives popping up for Calais. The “Jungle” has been there for some time, but now the support truly goes international. I somehow hope (duuuh… hippie….) that my little sidetrip and meeting up with the people in Hungary and Serbia will result in maybe really practical, trying to transport the stuff, of which we have excess, and which is seriously lacking somewhere else. Already friends of mine told me they would like to support the people in Serbia with stuff… (gosh, I want Scotty to do some beaming up…)

It ‘s not that the situation there, or in the other places I saw on my travels, are all of a sudden heaven, just because some people are trying the best they can. In Germany, or at least in Berlin as well as in Budapest the problem is not too little material support, more, well.. too much of things that weren’t needed. But it was quickly coordinated. In Hungary, the political situation is really, really bad. So are the cops and the police brutality. That’s the main problem, at least, my impression when I was there. Material and moral support is plenty. The demonstration against the government because of its refugee policy on Wednesday says it all.

Politics have always been simply ignored in Berlin. Here there’s more the problem of the xenophobes, who are more than willing to use organized violence against the refugees.. after all they’ve been through. And I have to admit, from some of the stuff I heard, I’m happy the antifa reacts quickly, and can be there when needed.

The other problem is, Germany IS for many refugees the end of the journey. But many are turned down. Even if a deportation is prevented, even if for example a youth club refuses the orders of the city to kick the refugees out of their building, they still have nowhere to go in the longer run. And no hope left… All you can do is “emergency help”.

What I saw in Serbia, and I guess it will be even worse further down south, is simply not that many “leftovers” from a consumer society, so many, very necessary, materials are constantly lacking. Also, from what I’ve heard, there’s a very good reason to distrust many of the more official, governmental, support (different as in Hungary, where it seems it’s a “power” thing, here it is, well.. simply money). Corruption is not exactly unknown… Also, many refugees, when they finally manage to cross the border to Serbia, risk losing the last of their few possessions because they are a far too easy prey…

The fences won’t stop the people from fleeing. They will only have a bigger chance of dying, or suffer more on the way. The fence in Hungary is a good example. It is closed, but there’s 1.000s in Serbia who will find means to cross it. The people in Budapest are already preparing for the next wave of refugees. The train station in Budapest was blocked for the refugees. So the people started walking. They will come here. They have hardly any choice. You would do the same in their situation. And you’d prolly try to get as far from the danger, just like they do. And you wouldn’t want to try to seek safety in Saudi Arabia either…

They’re human beings. Not statistics. Not a “crisis”. I’ve seen their children, playing with pink balloons donated by volunteers in front of the station in Budapest, and for a short moment, smiling and playing. I shared a video of the kids dancing in the park in Belgrade. But think of the memories they will have, because Fortress Europe rather sees them drown, tear-gasses them and their parents, packs them in overfilled trains to a deportation center, or forces them to walk along the highway, or how they have witnessed their parents getting arrested for trying to get through a fence…As one of the people I met on my travels, who was a refugee as a kid, told me: your childhood stops, when you become a refugee.

Oh, and yes, I’ve had more than enough discussions about how the capitalist system is to blame, or how we should change the system, or how the situation in Syria, Eritrea, or Afghanistan should be improved so there’s no need to flee. Of course I agree. But that won’t happen over night.

And the people are here. Right here, and right now. And they need support.

Practically, morally, and politically. Again. Don’t panic. Organize.

Impressions – The city through old eyes

Walking through the neighborhood with my 78-year old mum visiting me, I see someone I know standing in the door of one of the local squat pubs. So I go over, and while my mum admires the huge murals outside. I chat with this fellow-foodsaver. The pub is a distribution point for saved food, bread & cake have just arrived.

So I tell my mum to go inside and take some. She obviously feels a bit awkward, until one the people outside, an elder, broadshouldered batcaver all dressed in black and wearing a Crass shirt and a nice fluffy mohawk, steps into the doorway, and almost knightly and very insistingly invites her in. A bit shy, she has no choice but to step inside, still feeling very out of place and trying her best not too look at all the weird hairdo’s and tattoos. Then she discovers the cakes…. and yes, they’re fresh from the bakery, and yes, they are for free…. We didn’t stay for a drink, but my mum immediately popped into the small art gallery next door to have another look inside :).

Thing is, sometimes what surprises my visitors says more of how my original country has changed, than about the more positive aspects of this city.

My mum wondering how all these little craft and other shops survive and aren’t taken over by huge chains. Enjoys the cheap indian food, and swallows hard when her wine arrives, the glass is so big. Stopping at a supermarket open til midnight, and my mum exclaiming how cute, how cute, and I wonder why, it’s just a very normal supermarket, until she tells me, there’s only one girl behind the counter, this late at night, and nobody thinks it’s dangerous. I of course have to inform her about the not-so-nice backgrounds, no minimum wage means, yes, the food is cheap, but either the owners works at least 12 hours a day, or that the bread is so cheap because the person on the other side of the counter works 40 hours a week, and still is dependent on “social service money”.

But yah, I rather live in a poor city which smells bad, is dirty, and where the drunks hang outside, than to worry about walking the streets alone after dark, my mum actually asked me if it wasn’t too risky for a woman on her own.

Impression – Summer Time

Summer… which means either I have visitors or am visiting…

Though my eyes never are closed for what’s happening in this neighborhood, walking together with people who are not “settled” here, opens my eyes even more for those small things I perceive as quite normal.

  • Going home from a squatting pub in the early sunday morning daylight, and note from the corner of my eye random people sleeping on abandoned, graffitied, couches on the sidewalk.
  • During the foodsaving brunch, talk to one of the life-experienced people who really, really, really wants to help, but well, she’s slightly confused and already rubbed some people the wrong way. With a huge smile, she tells me her ex lives around here. Then looks away, tears filling her eyes.. she doesn’t miss the guy, but oh, how she misses the dogs… I hear one of the other foodsavers making a remark to his friend how so many people here can still laugh, still have a huge smile on their face, but if you hear their stories, you wonder how they can keep going.
  • Sitting in front of the giveaway shop, trying to have a meeting, get pissed at and become quite rude to some drunk guy who starts laughing weirdly in a foreign language whenever we want to discuss something more seriously. Luckily he buggers off after one of the other giveaway people tells him to get lost in his own language.
  • Waiting for one of my guests, and watch a naked guy making a bed by wrapping himself around a young tree growing out of the more than 1 meter tall weeds on a street corner.
  • Say hello to one of the local too-many-dogs ladies sipping her beer on the steps of a gentrified-away – former second hand children’s toys, now empty for over one year – store, and my guest shaking his head, wondering if I know all the freaks here. Deeply inhale the smell of rotten garbage at the end of my street.
  • Grab a drink in one the newer “steam punk” pubs my guest wanted to visit, and watch some local talent taking the open stage.
  • Relocate to an artist “public living room” for vegan cake & coffee at midnight and see an escaped ferret run across the street looking for food (and my guest running after it with his phone to make a pic).
  • Hear some really nice music from a balcony nearby, and can’t help but to get slightly pissed at that one annoying neighbor who called the cops on it.
  • Having a chat in the park with a girl in her early twenties, asking for a cigarette, who obviously takes more care of her dog than of herself, and, after refusing her offer of some stronger liquor, we exchange life stories.. . A few days later, I distribute saved food, I meet her again, & she shyly asks if she can give me a hug, tells me she quit drinking, and thanks me for our talk. Only when she walks away I make the connection…

Impression – Back From Borg Country

Back to base.. (or “the warzone” as one my friends described it)

All of a sudden I realize how many graffiti is all over the place, and how colorful it makes this city. Normally I only notice the really good pieces. See all the half- or completely ruined & abandoned buildings along the tracks. Get out of the S-Bahn, hear music, and it IS actually someone playing a guitar and not a huge flock of seagulls or an air-conditioning. Or on the platform, see a guy holding his bike, and completely relaxed, smoke his cigarette directly under a non-smoking sign.

Walk past the local streetpunks begging “for weed and beer”. Smile because people not even in the back of their head consider leashing their dogs. Inhale deeply the smell of broken sewage, rotting garbage & the exhaust of the close-to-totall-loss cars, the only ones which people here can afford, and are not that susceptible to arson.

Avoid some fireworks, still saved from new years eve, being thrown into a passage. Go into my street and immediately discover a few cardboard boxes with “zu verschenken” (“for free”) and a some abandoned couches, mattresses and other furniture soaked by the rain. Actually for the first time notice that my window ledges are “noisy” with tags. Sigh, and remove a few empty liquor bottles from those window ledges. Sit here, inside, and hear the groups of people laughing and chatting on their way to the pubs, prolly holding “a beer for on the way”.

Though I could have done without getting almost hit by a car when I crossed the road or stepping into dog shit.

Just gotta check in the park if the local “senior hooligans” are still as loud and messy as always, if any dreadnecks are annoying the “Norman’s” with a beat here and there, and how much grass could even try to reach a height over 3cm after weeks of berlin’s no. 1. hobby of “grilling”

Impression – Getting rid of saved bread

Picked up 30 kilos or so of bread, rolls, and cake at the bakery again. The Free Shop, where I usually distribute the bread is closed, so I step on my bike and ride to all the spots where I know people are begging.

Group 1 is sitting near the metro station with a sign “please donate for weed & beer”. But they also happily take cake and croissants. Something big with beard, belly and lots of tattoos shyly asks if he can take a few rolls for the next day. And  he discovers the rolls with poppy seed.. he tries to hide his eager, so I say yes, please yes, take it, I have another 25 kilo to get rid off.

Group 2 includes a guitar player busking with a djembe player and about 7 people trying to collect money from the people walking past. Especially the cakes are appreciated. One of the women delves out a banana-chocolate-pudding thing from the bottom of the carton box and completely melts. Funny how these oso-scary beggar punks turn out to be in fact extremely polite. For sure when it involves chocolate.

After 5 groups of people hanging on the streets I still have too much bread left, so on to one of the local squat pubs. Unfortunately, it still closed. Outside a group of backpackers sits on the sideway making music, and I manage to upload them with another bunch of free bread. Yes, for free, now will you please take it? Backpacks are opened and the bread packed. Except by one guy, who just looks at me and says “you completely flatten me”. No, he doesn’t want any bread. And keeps looking at me in utter surprise. I noticed before, I seem to attract the people marked by life.

In the mean time, the people in the pub hear me talking to the people outside. Ok, the bartender still hasn’t arrived, so officially the pub is closed, but yes, please do bring the food inside. Thank goodness, I finally managed to un-bread my bike.

Impression – Just another warm summer night.

Warm summernights make this city feel so surreal..

Waiting for the S-Bahn, a young guy, obviously not sober and obviously not happy, so completely lost and out of balance, he risks falling on the railwaytrack. Sits down, head between his knees. Older, obviously more experienced – and obviously also not sober – alcoholic, walks up to him. “You ok? Where do you have to go?” “Ostkreuz. My wife walked out on me.” Train arrives. Older guys picks the young guy up and carries him into the train. And I see how he makes the younger guy sit down, offers a sip of his beer, and starts listening and nodding to his story…
Though it’s probably a sad one, the way someone obviously on the “loser” side of society cares for a complete stranger in trouble makes me smile.

Going to a noise gig in a techno place. Playground for adults made out of old pellets, near the water. Lots of hidden corners, and things to climb in. Just missing a swing. Too tired to actually enjoy the music, so walking back to the local station.

Seeing a couple not only picking up empty bottles, but also cigarette butts with maybe a bit of tobacco left and bickering at each other in some east-european language.

Walking to the end of the platform I see two guys about to start fighting. Fists flying, and the younger one takes out what looks like a club and goes after the elder guy. Weird how I stay absolutely calm, and without thinking, ask them wtf is wrong with them & to take it easy, step in between. And then they actually both start explaining to me what the other one was doing wrong “he started!”. Another guy also steps in, and they split up. Turns out the club is actually a flute.

Shaking my head, I step into the train. (and nope, not for one second I was scared or felt threatened, they were just disturbing my pleasant dreamy mood)

Why go to the movies if you can just drive a few stops in the Berlin S-Bahn..

Rant – How to disturb a party (reprise)

It’s relatively quiet again in the neighborhood. That is, relatively. And only concerning the amount of cops. But holy shit, you got a pretty good idea how the people in Baltimore, or in the Schilderswijk in the Hague, Netherlands feel.

The opinion of people in the neighborhood about what happened last week varies: some distinguish between the “good” squatters of the Kreutziger, who are indeed, very constructive with all their DIY projects – also for the neighbors, such as the “Rent advice” and the “social support”, and the “bad” squatters of the Rigaer, who supposedly make a mess of everything, throw garbage on the streets or just leave empty bottles everywhere (“and I don’t get it, they all ride a bike, don’t they?). This even from leftish people. Strangely enough, some of the more “mainstream” people, for example a young born and raised Friedrichshainer, are far more positive: all cops are bastards, and long live the squatters – as long as they keep living here, and protest (and yes, are loud and make a mess), the rents wont rise that much. In other words “those squatters, they never did anything to me…” – thereby implying the cops do…

In general, the average neighbor is on the side of the squatters.

They’re part of the “Kiez”. Just like the elder citizens drinking their beers  in front of the late night shop until it closes, the spontaneous art made of disintegrating bikes, the guy refusing to tie his dog outside the supermarket since “that’s patronizing the dog”, the small pubs which are more or less extended living rooms, the senior hooligans in the park asking for cigarettes, the light technician projecting his light-effects on the walls of the house opposite the street, the fact that the only butcher around sells “bones for dogs” only, the begging punks at the metro station, the guerrilla knitting, the buskers, the small patches of squatted soil around many trees in the streets with benches or flower beds made out of left-over wood, the Roma guys making music and singing on their balcony, the carton boxes put on the streets with stuff “for free” everywhere & all the time, the dread-hippy giving his ouija-board an extra layer of varnish in front of his window, the notes “clean your dog’s shit, damned” getting endless responses with other notes taped under it..

What is NOT part of the Kiez are the uniformed semi-cop-traffic-wardens who only dare to walk around in groups of five, complaining about ghettoblasters or dogs-without-a-leash in the park, or the metro security who just outside the station starts pissing people off (a few days ago I walked passed them when a not completely sober and slightly worn-down fellow-neighbor shouted some stuff towards them about uniforms and too small genitals). or “new” neighbors who complain about a klezmeh-band playing in pub which exists here for more than 10 years – after which the klezmeh band picks up their instruments, and continues in the park, resulting in a nice get-to-gather-and-sing-and-dance at 2 in the morning…

Impression – The Free shop on Location

Our Free Shop went “on location” for the neighborhood market in between the cherry & apple blossoms in the garden of Villa Kuriosum.

Made quite a few people happy with the stuff we brought, a woman walking away with exactly the same shoes which just died on her, other people who tried to sell stuff ended up swapping stuff with us, and even the gold-enameled kitsch vase found a new home.

Poor parents when their kids discovered all our cuddly toys. One little girl walked off with a (original DDR- someone told us) teddy bear almost as big as her, her daddy following her, shaking his head and mumbling “I just cleaned all her toys out”. Wouldn’t be surprised if we find that bear back in the shop in a couple of weeks..

Impression – Sharing a solar eclipse

Not to bore anyone with more very partial solar eclipses, but… this is how you share the experience in a random park in Friedrichshain:

Someone gives you old old exposed film, others tear up an emergency blanket for fellow watchers, or you are welcome to admire the x-rays of a rather nasty accident.

Oh, or you can enjoy images & video afterwards while listening to some great dark & dreamy music (nice surprise music event in the giveaway-shop by multi-instrumentalists..).