the merry dance of the sun

i learnt about mongolians today. they dont bury their dead, they just take them out into the wilderness and dump them and the birds and the worms and wolves and stuff eat them.they dont bury them because mongolians cant stand the idea of being underground. even when they are dead. sometimes the bodies find their way to streams and rivers so it is completely unsafe for non mongolians to drink the water.its ok for mongolians however. they are used to it.

95 percent of them have syphillis. but it doesnt affect them. its been passed down from generation to generation so they are all just used to it and carry on in their usual way.

i learnt this at a film festival from a hungarian cinematographer

oh yeah?

the things i remember

i remember the looks of pain and desperation on the faces of those women.

as they paddled against the wind and the chop.

on their boats

which should have sunk

(and probably have

but i have never seen it)

trying to sell one lousy can of coca cola.

which i didnt buy.


i remember the turtle

being scared and

the turtle

in the bathroom.


i remeber the waterfall

and the sacrifice

and the sunset


i remember the monk in the forest

the mountain behind the monk and the one legged guide who took all my cigarettes

i raged.

once.

i dont rage anymore.

the monk told my fortune

and somehow

i am happy.