Hannah Goldstein

Almost everything has a name, at least it should if it’s something that plays such a big role in the everyday as the night. But the nights, they have no names.
The nights are meant to pass us by in sleep, but what do the sleepless do? What about those that dream so much that they wake as if they didn’t sleep at all? Or the daydreamers, that pass the time occupied, deep in thought, questioning what it all means?
Questioning the lack of a name for the night is the same as questioning why we are here. To search for an answer to a question that is unanswerable.
The poet Göran Palm wrote a book with the title ‘Varför har nätterna inga namn?’ The book is small and it fits in my bag next to my point-and-shoot camera. It consists of short poems, randomly printed on the page with two or three sections flowing together and some sentences standing-alone. He attempts to answer the unanswerable. These pictures are just that. An attempt to find an answer that won’t allow itself to be found.