change of identities

Today we started a new swap of identities. Giselda become Cristian, Cristian moved in Tanja’s body and Tanja discovered Giselda. A hard and difficult process of finding our fragilities….




“In the last 24h I achieved to:
– roll several bad cigarettes
– finally buy the soap I wanted to buy at the pharmacy
– try my emotional solo in a new way at Cristians flat
– forget how to speak in my own language, but speak quite well norwegian
– get a compliment on my romanian pronunciation from a taxi driver
– take the metro in Bucharest
– remember that I can dance as a gypsy bride
– keep over 50% of my dancing even in the new body
– remember to put on my perfume
– get rid of the rash on my chest
It was a good day.


this hours was very uncomfortable and painful to be. My boots was harding me a lot, and my body was in conflict with my mind and the opposite, did no know exactly where to put the thinks.
realising that i don’t have so much information about me or I forgot them, I started to watch norwegian movies for the language and tried to look again for my movement quality.
I felt like I started to loose my identity and I can´t connect with myself so good like the other days.
I was trying to flirt again with cristian as usual but i decided not to remain at his place after, where we had a very good diner all together. I was no more then 20% of myself because of the cristian influences.

trying to redo my solo was a hard job for me today but in the and i had the feeling that i was there.
I made a lot of pictures and I play with the lights at cristian´s flat. I have one more task to do.
the taxi driver said that the people in rusia have a better life then in romania
i was really faling in love with cristian today. i am glad that I had the change to go with the metro to cristian´s place, where it is so nice, cosy and we spend time discussing about contemporary dance, playing with the lights and watching giselda´s solo.
It was a good day,




(photos by Ciprian Gheorghe)

I don’t feel right, I feel very much left. Left behind. I feel my colleagues can go much deeper than me, while I still can’t manage to puncture the surface and start digging. I hate watching people dig around me, and not having the capacity to dig myself. I feel stupid, in a way.
I feel like I am always two steps behind, desperate to catch up, but instead of «cath» it becomes «fuck» – so I fuck up.
In my desperation I feel I throw up proposals, and I have no clue about what is too much, or not enough, or what works and what doesn’t, but I just keep on vomiting my insides out. I propose, and propose over, and propose again. And I am equally surprised when things work, as I am when things don’t work. Is THIS ok, and that NOT…?
I feel like I’m standing on the outside looking in through a glass door, and I can see people talking and discussing, but I can’t fully understand what they are saying, because I can only hear them partially. And obviously, they can’t hear me either. And I don’t have the key to this stupid door, and I can’t read lips, so I get really frustrated and start shouting instead of speaking, to see if my ideas can perforate the glass door in that way. It’s not a very efficiant method…

“Riga (/ˈriːɡə/; Latvian: Rīga, pronounced [ˈriːɡa] ) is the capital and largest city of Latvia. With 693,064 inhabitants (January 2014), Riga is the largest city of the Baltic states and home to more than one third of Latvia’s population. The city lies on the Gulf of Riga, at the mouth of the Daugava. Riga’s territory covers 307.17 km2 (118.60 sq mi) and lies between 1 and 10 metres (3.3 and 32.8 ft) above sea level, on a flat and sandy plain.”

I have never been to Riga. I fucking hate Riga right now.

– the very irrational Tanja


I feel like the «new girl».
I don’t even know what to expect, really. I imagine that I’ll be coming in to something already established – but hopefully not set in stone. I feel like I have a million different thoughts and feelings, that I feel are of relevance and might be related to this, but I fear that in reality they will turn out to be in no way connected to anything in this project.
I guess I’ll have to find my place in this too. I kind of feel that that is the story of my life – finding my place. It’s also something I believe (or maybe hope) a lot of us are faced with in different stages of life. I haven’t really found anything of truly great fignificance this far (in terms of life).
In terms of this project, it has been haunting me for a longer period now. But in the strangest ways, creating chains of thoughts that even I can’t seem to follow… Like for example, here’s a funfact for you: in June this year, I decided that I would no longer shave my legs, armpits or bikini area, all this because I suddenly got the feeling that I was changing my true identity by removing this hair, that obviously is growing there naturally… Yeah, how did I get there? …The strange new girl…
Anyway, here I am, in all of my hairyness, sitting in my sofa writing this text with no actual clue as to what this period in Bucharest will bring.
One thing is sure, I already feel like I’m standing on the edge of something unknown.
So, only one thing to do then – jump in with open arms.

no friends


I feel the most fragile when I really, really want something.I feel the most fragile when I really, really want something.
I moved to the end of the world one year ago today. I didn’t know
anyone up here back then, I don’t really know that many people now either.
Maybe only on the surface – the casual «hello» kind of knowing.
I have nobody close by to share deeper, intimate things with in my everyday life.
Sometimes, I joke about it, saying «I have no friends!» and then laughing.
But in reality it’s true. Joking and laughing is my biggest shield and defense mechanism in life.

Well, actually, talking about «no friends» – there is this one guy. But I suspect
that he has started to get some feelings for me, and I don’t want that to develop
any further, so….

Sometimes, when I go to bed, I miss the feeling of another body so bad that I hug and spoon with my pillow. It’s been three months and three days since the last time I kissed someone.