Nothing exists.
All is a dream.
And you are not you – you have no body, no blood,
no bones, you are but a thought.
– Mark Twain

Who are we at the end of the day, when we get home at night and close the door behind us? Each of us alone in the dark, we are cut off from our own bodies, each other, and the world around us. Modern man is a solitary creature, stuck behind his screens, blocking out the exterior.

These images look behind the drawn curtains, the closed façades, and expose a primal connection with the natural forces around us. Here, the natural mixes with the artificial, the familiar is at the same time unsettling. What is intimate is also part of the public domain. There is no rhyme or reason, only our own thoughts and they are not what they seem. After all, nothing exists. All is a dream.