Olivier Culmann
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  • Atlantics – 2001
    Hamburg – Montreal. Ten days of waiting around my eyes riveted on the sea coming in.
    What with those twelve hundred rubbish containers filled with unknown contents; more like mysterious boxes ceremonially parading useless items which have become indispensable to our consumer lives.
    One tries to stand upright then swallows a gust of wind whilst picturing some wild adventure.
    One waits for the midnight hour only to find that the clock is ticking backwards and that the hands need turning back to eleven to fit the time zone. Twenty five hours a day always bring us that much closer to the set date. One eats spicy food and goes to the top of the Himalayas with an Indian expedition crew working for a Canadian company and made to haul Panamanian pavilions.
    One always thinks they’ll find something at the end of the tunnel when everything happens in the here and now. The whole point of a journey is in its daily happenings.
    Itineraries imagined and pinpointed with a finger on a map.