I've probably written about this before, but setting up the photo exhibition in our farm in Jurovski Dol was one of the more enlightening moments of my life — regarding my habits and patterns and unconcious behaviours.

To begin with, there is a profound reluctance to discard anything—who knows when you might need that copy of The New Yorker that has gathered dust for three years without ever being looked at? There is little space for anything. You never feel you can master the confused mess of books, papers, magazines, pieces of clothing, compact disks, letters to be answered and sundry other objects—you only shift portions of the chaos from one place to another.