at the end of the day...

bicycle, ramna, dhaka, 28th feb 2012

in the last week i was just dealing with the issue of being a foreign photographer, stealing their lifes and using it in order to make money. that’s the perception, sometimes.

and maybe, probably, they are right. journalist are stealing, always. they are using tragedies, extraordinary, exotic, poetic moments  for their purpose in order to earn money, and to communicate. but above all to earn money. bangladeshi and also foreign ones. in bangladesh and in the rest of the world.

foreigners- who come to bangaldesh- also they are stealing in a country which is not just theirs but moreover a country which is cultural and historical wise completely different from them. Also they consider it as stupid- some of them. they don’t say this but they must.

there were denish journalist in india. they did a story on corruption. released it and the indian gouvernment was annoyed. except from the fact that maybe those guys or whoever did this could thin for a moment about the effect it could have the way they told the story i think it is a tinny bit disrespectful and stupid, cause how otherwice do you think you have to come into a coutry to report about something which is so obvious. do you not think that out of his over 1 billion people there is nobody who can think.

Anyways now I found one argument for me being here, in bangladesh. to see the reality different, to perceive in a fresh way what became self explanatiove in their world.

Writers often go to a foreign country o write. Sometimes they write about the place they are in, sometimes not. But they go.

dhaka,  feb 2012