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He could be sitting next to me at the bar drinking coffee and I wouldn’t know it was him. He could find me on the street and ask me for a specific address, I would answer and I wouldn’t know it was him. Many people in my town know who he is. I do not know. Some have asked me if I want them to find out who he is. My answer is always no. I prefer intrigue. Maybe it’s because of fear, shame or simply that I’m not interested in him. I prefer to play and imagine what he is like, how he would relate to me, how he would talk to me, how he would scold me. The street is the ideal context to meet him. He is the opposite of a vampire: he only goes outside when it is sunny. That’s when we can agree, sit down (1) and talk. What are we talking about? Well, about how difficult it is to reconcile the punishment of the family tree on us (2), about how difficult it is not to lose your head when a hand hits you even if you don’t want to (3) and, in order to appear to be fine, you end up getting the first head you come across (4). We also talked about how even after that punishment, our hair ends up growing out in a ponytail (5). I often tell him how curious it is that I did not intend to follow his path, since I only aspired to have a dog (6) as a pet (that was enough for me), but from one day to the next she appeared in my head (7). Fifteen months after that appearance she is here to teach me that now I am his shadow and that he became a grandfather (8).

©Dominic Dähncke

©Dominic Dähncke
©Dominic Dähncke
©Dominic Dähncke
©Dominic Dähncke
©Dominic Dähncke
©Dominic Dähncke
©Dominic Dähncke