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Anton Ski

Anton Ski



  • Canon 5d mark II
  • Sony Nex-3
  • Canon FL 135mm f/2
  • Canon EF 85mm f/1.8
  • Vivitar series 1 19-35mm f/3.5-4.5
  • Canon FL 55mm f/1.2
  • Volna 9MC 50mm f/2.8 macro
  • Fujinon EBC 200mm f/4.5
  • Zenitar 50 1.7
  • Canon EF 50 mm f/1.4
  • Tamron 28-75mm f/2.8

Missed some entries?

Published February 27th, 2012

Did i miss some entries? Or should I have rather looked for exits?

I missed them just as well.

I missed my exit from route 101 and got suck somewhere in the middle of the blurred apparitions of your face between imaginary LA and haunted San Francisco.

Entries and exits the inns and outs, the old in-outs - I missed them all.

Simply jump back twenty blocked exits, make a memorable entry, expose yourself to the complacent public, let them see you stripped to the blood-stained meat on your broken bones, spit it all backwards and swallow the blow. I did.

Red is the color of revelation, the revolution girl bleeds roses and wine, I swallow her revolutions with the corners of my mouth and jump back twenty entries to crash into the planets and galaxies revolving on the orbit of her smile. This one comes with blackberry flavor. My fingers are black and I choke on the berries of her words dropping from the tree and into the exit from this highway, low-way and no-way.

Simply jump back and keep ...

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Published February 27th, 2012

These days are like underwater swimming.

In my dreams I used to breathe under water and wonder why other people just can’t do the same. Swimming the same deep water as you is hard, they said.

But I only run shallow bays, warm and sun-drenched, sparkling warped stars surround me and I feel a bit fetal not knowing which way is top or bottom, because there is no gravity in my dreams or it simply doesn’t affect us.

If you want to know someone better, leaf through her CDs, you say. What I find there, in my underwater listening promenades are these aching streams of sound, so tender, so hopeless and yet so invincible. Each of them is like a snowflake dancing on the edge of spitting flames. Yet it's never going to melt, so fragile and so immortal.

These sounds crawl into my mind like wounded animals into a den and swim along, inside and along, they do.

They hurt like ice bits in that stupid boy’s eye but instead of making me see evil they make me smile and want to embrace the world.

These ...

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