between the shadow and the soul.


Steam is one of the biggest social problems facing P.N.G. Steam is 100 proof, home brewed alcohol and has caused a number of deaths and disabilities amongst users. Moreover, the crime rate has increased due to the high usage of Steam.

Rape, murder and abuse rank high amongst the crimes committed by people who drink steam. Just last week, a number of boys gang raped a sister of a boy who had stolen one of their radio’s and then decapitated his mother and then cut of the sisters arms.

This is just one example of what steam can do. The pictures I have taken are an example of the way Steam is brewed and ‘enjoyed’. These photos were taken in a remote part of outlying Port Moresby where people will not be found by the law. These are the first photos to the beginning of my project on Steam.

Brewing the alcohol is in itself a very dangerous endevour. Considering that gas burners regularly blow up and have killed and maimed many people who have been trying to brew steam. Brewing Steam is a more economically viable option for many Papua New Guineans because it is a cheap way to get drunk as well as profitable business venture.

Steam is a problem that will probably not be solved any time soon. Poverty, boredom, health and lack of education are a large part of the problem.

the stars

I love how some things are constant,
like the way grandpa always has the fire going when winter arrives
and he sits in front of it with his knitted woolen jumper
talking about the days that seem so foreign and wonderfully archaic to me.

But the sad thing is, I know not all things are constant and change is inevitable and it scares the living daylights out of me. But then I stop thinking about it and really enjoy the little things like my fathers cooking and my grandpa’s stories and I embrace it all. Whole heartedly.

And I know I already miss some of the things that used to be constant but are not anymore; like my nana’s kisses or my aunties excitement of seeing all of us. But it’s okay because I know that the memories are always there; unchangeable.

And then I realise that the things that seem constant, like the stars in the sky or the sun in it’s glory, will too, one day end. But some things can culminate gloriously; like a shooting star across the sky.

en la noche.

(L o v e)

I am happy.


It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and
bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like
the company you keep in the empty moments.
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

wewak, papua new guinea.


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place in the family of things.” – mary oliver

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