This page of the Mobile Worlds website provides features throughout the project duration. This may include films, books, people, songs, plants, animals, a mode of transport, or anything else really. Please note that these features are about inspiring to think about a given topic related to third cultures and/or sustainable mobility, not about idealizing any person, book, film etc. Please feel free to leave suggestions for future features in the comments below! Latest posts on top.

Feature #8: “Den Heilige Kua”, and its author, Roseane dos Reis

Roseane dos Reis is an actress, artist, critical thinker, mother, Brazilian resident in Norway, who has created the theatre performance “Den Heilige Kua – Om å føde ein nordmann” (The Holy Cow – About giving birth to a Norwegian), with its debut on 8 March 2024 (see the poster of the performance above, with its design by Patricia Cavidades, and a photo of Roseane below).

I quote a part of the performance’s description (translated from Norwegian with online help):

“The smell of freshly brewed coffee greets the audience at the door. This is a poetic, humorous and informal story about a birth that becomes a metamorphosis. And a tribute to everything one can discover about oneself and others over a good cup of coffee!

While she tells the story of her first birth, the narrator becomes a cow, Audhumbla, the primal cow in Norse mythology. The story challenges stereotypical ideas about the foreign wife and mother, highlights several understandings of equality from an immigrant’s point of view, and invites the audience to a critical reflection on feminism and integration. It is about motherhood and maternity care, about community and equality, about identity, feminism and integration.”

To create this performance, Roseane conducted interviews with Norwegian and immigrant women, and reflected on her own experience giving birth for the first time in Norway as an immigrant. She intertwines this with Norwegian mythology and various other mythologies that she traced back in relation to her own ancestors, in India, Italy, the Netherlands, and Brazil, among others, and especially in relation to women and rituals, such as around drinking coffee. This blend of input conveys the complexity of emotions and socio-political circumstances in such a simultaneously simple and powerful way! As one audience member cited on the performance’s page puts it:

“It was like we felt the warmth from the poolside in Brazil. We heard grandma talking to the parrot. We were the ones who travelled from country to country and faced new challenges, good and bad. In the meeting with the maternity ward, we were the ones who sat there without dignity, without respect and understanding for our bodies and our child who was about to come. And when the child came, it was ours! My words only stretch to fantastic, gripping, moving and absolutely worth seeing.” (Lil’Gorilla Theatre Company, translated from Norwegian for this post)

For some impressions of the performance, Roseane shared some professional photographs from it, some by Kata Pasztor and others by Andre Nesheim, as you can see indicated specifically in the credits per photo. I’m very thankful for being able to share these here with the MobileWorlds readers in the gallery below!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I only had the opportunity to see a small part of the performance, and the privilege to hear Roseane speak about the process of preparing and creating the performance, during a Master Class on Aesthetics and Creativity at HVL, in Bergen, Norway, and was truly touched. I subsequently interviewed her for this feature and ended up having a beautiful conversation about third cultures with her – a theme that resonated with her experiences as well.

I want to go into a bit more detail about what thoughts the piece, and Roseane’s background, triggered for me in relation to third cultures as I interpret them for this project. Among other aspects, Roseane recounts the story of giving birth in Norway, as a Brazilian (with multiple other roots). She had attempted assimilation in Norway, but in this moment suddenly noticed the importance of being seen as all of herself, as more than what she dared to show and present to Norwegians around her normally. For instance, her name, Roseane, being difficult to pronounce in Norwegian, she had been naming herself Ane, and now she was, needed to be, Roseane, on the papers, and in her experience. In the moment of giving birth, and of connecting to her child, she felt the need to connect to her family’s cultures – which were Brazilian, as well as mixed from various places around the world, – and as she rejected assimilation, she felt exclusive behaviours surround her in response. As she chose to demand things for the sake of herself and her baby, rather than just taking what was given, harsher social relations suddenly surfaced. At the same time, all this gave her renewed strength.

This highlights an important aspect that migration scholars often point to: key life changes – such as giving birth, but also finding a life-partner, changing schools, deciding to settle in a particular new home, etc. – are often triggers for a shifting relation to our identities. They are moments where some cultural aspect that had always been in the background, suddenly asks for attention. If such a moment triggers a migrant to go from a process of local assimilation to one of stronger identification with another country, or rejection of a local culture, this will likely generate a big shift in how the migrant is perceived by others. This does not need to result in tension, but if it does, it can reveal larger issues of cultural prejudices and have great impact on the migrant’s life and of those close to them. In the case of a birth, there is also the added element of the child’s inevitable relation to their country of birth, as well as the cultures their parents bring to their lives. All this can also be a moment of true reflection on third cultures – which parts of which cultures am I now resonating with, and why? What is something new I’ve found within myself, which I want to carve out, use to reshape who I am? Who does this allow me to relate more to, or less, and how? When children are involved: which cultural aspects do I wish to pass on to them, and which parts of the “other than me” will they adopt, how can I relate with this? Perhaps these are questions that individuals and societies could ask themselves a little more frequently, without the context of extreme shifts. Perhaps that is the power of engaging conceptually with third cultures: allowing and acknowledging shifts in cultural understandings, gradually, and in tandem with others.

These last points are not mentioned by Roseane herself, but they were themes that came up in me as I heard her story and about her art. This is the true power of such people and performances, it seems to me, to trigger deep thoughts in others, but allowing the receiving person’s experiences and backgrounds to add shape and colour to what is taken from the performance. Thus, again, third cultures can emerge and enrich imaginaries, and hopefully, also wider debates. And Roseane’s work confirms again how much art more generally and theatre and particular can help process and transmit such thinking.

I highly recommend all readers of this post to check out and follow Roseane’s work, via this Linktree: https://linktr.ee/roseanereis, and her instagram.

 

Feature #7: Ode to the Slow Cooker

The past months have been a bit quiet, as some may have noticed. This is because we have been slow cooking all the input we’ve gathered during this time, via workshops, reading, conferences and courses.

It is telling for the state of academic work today, that a few months without reaching out actively to an audience feels almost like a crime. Though we did reach out – for example via a post on the Migrant Knowledge blog in December, entitled “Third Cultures – The (Cursed) Gold of Migrants?”. But social media and this website have been rather quiet as we let the vast input thus far settle into shapes that can be shared and make an impact.

Like food in a slow cooker, ideas need time to slowly warm up and gain strength and flavour. Or, using another metaphor closer to the heart of Mobile Worlds, ideas need time to take root, before they can take flight. Our silence implies no less work, but rather an effort of concentration on the essentials, and the meshing of ideas from various sources.

In line with this, we share a little “Ode to the Slow Cooker” as this new feature, and look forward to sharing the – hopefully “delicious”! – results, and perhaps even some recipes you could use for inspiration for your own work.

Ode to the Slow Cooker

by Kim C. v. Schönfeld 

Gathering the raw ingredients
Choosing carefully, quietly
I place them in layers,
Add some spices,
And close your lid.

I add some heat
And I know you will take your time.
I burst with curiosity
Of the effect that will emerge
As layers merge and unmake
To make something new, united.

Yet I cannot speed you up.
You have your time.
You need your time.
The delicious mesh would never emerge,
If I sped you up.

Thank you,
For taking your time.

– brain, please learn from this.

Feature #6: Spirit Bird, by Xavier Rudd

This feature brings “Spirit Bird”, by Xavier Rudd to you. See the video below:

You can also find the lyrics here.

Songs will have a different meaning for every listener, and that is part of their strength. In great part, then, I want to feature this song simply to allow readers to find their own connection to it, their own interpretation. Art – and I consider music and song a form of art – always leaves room for interpretation, as probably every other form of communication also would benefit from doing. Part of the motivation of this feature is then also to call attention to the multiple interpretations that terminologies like “third cultures”, “mobility” and “thinking otherwise”, among other core concepts of the Mobile Worlds project, inevitably have. And to see this as a positive thing, as often the meaning we take from a concept is the one we need. Nevertheless, it is also necessary to be careful here, as misunderstandings arising from different interpretations can be problematic. So in moments when it is important to align understandings better (even if they are never exactly the same) providing definitions and reformulations and space for debate on what a topic means can be crucial. This is also what the workshops in the Mobile Worlds project, combined with mobile interviews, help to do: using various ways of communicating can help to better align thinking on a given subject.

But as for “Spirit Bird”, the song I feature here, I would like to share parts of what this song means to me, and how I think it relates to the theme of Mobile Worlds. To me, Spirit Bird is about the unfairness and irrevocability of colonial damages to indigenous peoples, at the same time as it is about finding hope and strength despite adversity. I think it is about intergenerational awareness, beyond our lifetimes both into the past and into the future. I feel it is also about the pain inflicted on the world when it is faced with greed and egoism and carelessness. For Mobile Worlds these themes inspire me to consider the futures we imagine here in intergenerational and caring way, and brings attention to the need to allow and acknowledge pain and adversity, while also not shrinking away from acting in favour of those norms and values that we do not wish to let go of. The song reminds me that cultures have important unique norms and values that should be treasured in their diversity, while at the same time some destructive cultural traits do require challenging.

In a context in which, in Germany, a wave of right-wing “partying” is happening with extremely racist song lyrics to which young people and people of various ages dance, and in which all over the world right-wing ideologies seem on the rise (there is so much more to say here), it feels important to highlight the power of song for other directions, other thoughts. And also to ask ourselves, in the spirit of Mobile Worlds, what these anti-migration slogans and politics are doing to perceptions of acceptable mobilities, and the mobility of cultures – within ourselves and across borders. Perhaps the Spirit Bird can help call to the humanity in us?

 

 

Feature #5: “The Cognitive Dissonance Crisis” – The podcast episode that had me connecting cognitive dissonance, (third) cultures, and thinking otherwise

Rachel Donald’s podcast Planet:Critical is extremely inspiring and has got me thinking on many topics. Sometimes revolutionizing what I thought I knew or what I never knew. But sometimes perhaps not so much leading me to think otherwise, but certainly more deeply and with more grounding than some of the intuitive “knowledge” I feel I’ve gained over time but couldn’t always quite make a claim on. And it’s given me more of a sense of community around common thoughts and goals – planetary justice among humans and more-than-humans, the power of art, the necessity of creative imagination, the mesh of hope and hopelessness vis-à-vis today’s world.. – while also allowing an embracing of confusion and uncertainty that come with better or different forms of understanding and the utterly daunting future that seems to be before us. So, thank you Rachel (so much)! And to all others: go listen & read her work!

One specific episode of Planet:Critical so far has made me feel the explicit urge to feature it in relation to Mobile Worlds: the one on Cognitive Dissonance, with Sarah Stein Lubrano (who has her own website+blog, which I also recommend!). This is because one of the messages of the episode is that WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialised, Rich, Democratic) cultures (see also this book on the acronym) have a tendency to focus on the construction of a “self” and this process makes it very difficult– if not impossible – for dialogue to actually lead to anyone “changing their minds” (my PhD thesis explored and confirmed this lack of change effect in dialogue as well, from the perspective and context of social learning in planning). As Sarah describes it, individuals from WEIRD countries tend to be so focused on creating and then defending the “self” in its consistency, that debating a topic with others will make them defensive of their “self” rather than open to change their minds about a given topic, as this would require a change or shift in the “self”. This rings very true, and fits with a lot of experiences I’ve had (even in countries that are perhaps not quite so “WEIRD” but have been quite assimilated in this respect through colonization and globalization, at least in their more mainstream or dominant cultures). So, it made me question: is it thus a mistake to concern ourselves so much with the extent to which we identify with one or another – or a third – culture? Let me delve into this a little deeper.

If WEIRD countries are “weird” (ie odd or strange or particular) in the way they focus on the sense of self, which is in fact culturally constructed, then one could say that constructing a “self” based on a given culture is not very fruitful, but also that constructing the “self” from various cultures might be equally futile. After all, should we not just stop trying to determine how that self is defined and rather allow this to flow according to context, the people we are with, where we are, what we are trying to achieve? Probably, yes. Yet, to get to such a flowing understanding of the self, perhaps thinking in terms of “third cultures” is precisely one way we can unlearn the habit of constructing a fixed “self” based on a given fixed culture? Letting go of the defining power of a given culture might help to perhaps even reach a stage in which any “self” would be at least less “fixed”.¹

This seems to resonate also with the following quote from the podcast (around min 38, said by Sarah): “a lot of the political contradictions that we encounter in the world challenge not just our sense of who we are as good people, but also our sense of what on earth we should be doing next.” Perhaps this applies not only to political contradictions but contradictions more generally. Awareness and embracing of diverse cultures within the self and in close surroundings can be a very important way to come into contact with contradictions. The so-called “third-culture-kids” are often used to those contradictions, and likely so are people who come into contact with various cultures regularly without having to travel far. If there is less of an us-them dichotomy between cultures (like a myself versus the world logic), can this make it easier to experience this diversity less from a competitive or defensive logic?

In her own search of what might help people change their minds, Sarah Stein Lubrano suggests – among other things – that action is key. In other words, getting people into positions of doing something different from their usual ways might be the key to thinking otherwise. As she says, “thinking is most often a secondary result of doing” (min 42). Although Mobile Worlds might put a little more faith in (re)thinking the self and in debating, this learning and changing by doing view is why we have chosen to use creative and artistic methods, hands-on and unconventional creation, during the workshops and interviews – to hopefully help people (us) use introspection and unusual activities and debate and multi-sensorial and multi-generational action to reach understanding and imagination that they (we) might otherwise find much harder to find. We emphasize the use of these methods across generations because we wish to challenge the idea that working with our hands, accepting “imperfections” (based on what definition, anyway?), and making something that reflects some part of us or our thoughts, is something done only in childhood. I don’t even know who is insulting whom in those assumptions about what is done and not done at certain ages, but I think it’s past time we leave them behind…

There are so many more themes Sarah Stein Lubrano brings up in this podcast that are key, and so related to Mobile Worlds. Not least the role of social infrastructure in creating unexpected encounters that lead to doing differently and thinking differently. Or the role of judgement in the process of changing our minds. This only to say: go listen to the podcast, because if you thought the above was interesting, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Let alone if you delve deeper into both Sarah’s and Rachel’s work. Go there, and enjoy, and support them if you can!

¹ There are important consequences of this at the level of ethics, if nothing is entirely fixed in terms of norms and values that we tend to largely allow cultures to define. But this certainly seems worth exploring.

 

Feature #4: Thinking otherwise with: “Postcolonial Theory” and “Once Upon a Dragon's Fire”

Books usually attempt to transmit a deeper message, some sort of lesson or, if they’re really good, feed into our intuition. In non-fiction this is mostly done in quite a straight-forward way (though still always open to interpretation...), in fiction it is a little more roundabout…and because of that perhaps both more real and more successful, because fiction can, at least if done well, capture complexity in a way that non-fiction struggles to do. Perhaps because it must name and explain everything… but I digress from where I want to take this.

For Mobile Worlds, I have been reading quite a bit of non-fiction, and mostly academic literature, on “thinking otherwise”. In this process I have been reading the second edition of the book “Postcolonial Theory. A Critical Introduction” by Leela Gandhi, which is an indispensable book for understanding both “Western” thinking patterns, and the search for alternatives or “others”, when “othering” has been so central to the “West’s” definition of itself in the first place. This is not a book review, so I will not go into the details of the full book (I absolutely recommend reading it!), but I want to stand still by its message about the entangled reality of culture as both defining itself by the other, and rejecting that other (even when idealizing elements of it), only to (pretend to?) “save” the other by assimilating it to the self. As did several European countries when facing the lands they claimed as colonies and discovering otherness there. And all the while, the delineation of the self is understood as possible due to the firm belief in a single truth, in the existence of the individual self, and the perception that the world exists only as that which that self perceives (i.e. can only be, in effect, a reflection of what the self already knows). These patterns of belief that may at first seem to harmlessly provide a philosophy of the self, are revealed – in Leela Gandhi’s brilliant classic account of Postcolonial Theory – as extremely harmful to the capacity to perceive and accept any reality that is different from that which a given self already “knows”. As knowledge is absolute, in this philosophy, there seems to be no reason to question it. [We will come back to some further debate on the “self” in a future feature. Stay tuned!]

So, in that sense, then, what do Third Cultures do? I’m finding it interesting to question this from two angles. First, third cultures seem to encourage recognizing that even within the self, there are clashing knowledges fighting for application (dominance?), which is particularly obvious when the self contains, like it or not, multiple cultural sides (as is the case when people self-identify with a third culture rather than any one primary one). And second, third cultures under the light of “Postcolonial Theory” highlight that, to make a difference in physical realities beyond the self, discussions about the (third cultures within the) self – even when that self mirrors the struggles occurring outside the self rather than understanding itself as a fixed entity – must be taken beyond self-analysis and into reflections on what being in commonality, and in collective realities with multiple knowledges, means.

In the meantime, how can such an understanding of the existence various knowledges be spread and transmitted? This brings me to the second element of this feature, and to the interest in bringing (children’s) fiction into this discussion: “Once Upon a Dragon’s Fire”, by Beatrice Blue. This is a gorgeous book about (spoiler alert!) two children, who first experience the power of stories as they shape their own perceptions (of a dragon, in this case) and then realize how telling a different story (about the same dragon) can help shape a different reality for themselves. A shift in stories, a shift in (what is considered) knowledge, and a shift in reality, all interconnected in this beautifully illustrated book. Of course, there can be countless interpretations of a book, and I hope not to disappoint the author with this one. But bringing these two books together struck a chord for me, and I think it demonstrates how fiction and non-fiction, books told strongly through illustration and those told solely in writing, those with children’s and those with adult audiences in mind (though let’s not forget that many children’s books are read out loud by adults…) – all these sources can work together to contribute to ways of “thinking otherwise”, and recognizing that this is both possible, and often necessary. And quite crucial for a postcolonial, socially just world.

*please note that I realize I do close reading and do not shy away from engaging with the book...including drawing and writing in it. I know this is not done for some people. I hope it is not too shocking a reveal to the readers...but if so, here's another example of how one person's faux-pas is another's raison-d-être (or perhaps just a bit of a quirk.. but still).

 

Feature #3: Introducing Snow-Be-Gone-Kenobi and Megameltasaurus and their cultural and mobility relations

4 December 2023

As winter approaches in the northern Hemisphere, those blankets and hot teas seem more appealing, people also begin to think about snow. And, in some places, this implies a LOT of snow. To the extent that snow plows may be involved. Germany, at the moment, has serious problems with its public transportation due to heavy snowfall.

For those of you not in any such cold place, with 2023 being the hottest year on record, and places like Rio de Janeiro nearing boiling temperatures last month, just see this post as a welcome imaginary trip to cooler temperatures...

Did you know that there is a tradition, in some cold, cold places, to name snow plows? There are even formal naming competitions...!

Names range from Snow-Be-Gone-Kenobi over Scoop Dog to McShovin' in the USA (see here, though there are several more states having naming contests like this one, an overview is given here), or from Sled Zepplin over Snowy McSnow Face to Sweet Child o' Brine in Canada (see here), or from Lord Coldemort over Buzz Iceclear to Megameltasaurus and more in Scotland (see here). I haven't been able to find this tradition in non-English speaking countries, although I tried the search in Norwegian, Spanish, Dutch, Swedish, Finnish and German, but if these had any results on the search, they all referred only to the US or Scottish examples. Might this be due to the competition side to this being especially strong in English-speaking countries? Or a more general question of the language inviting this kind of word-play? Or personifying objects? A book I've begin reading recently, called Rethinking Nature Relations Beyond Binaries by E. C. H. Keskitalo specifically notes the impact of the dominance of the English language in shaping ways we understand and shape our realities. Does this also apply to naming snowplows?? What does giving an identity to such a machine via a local naming contest imply for how we perceive the mobility facilitated by these snowplows? Indeed, they tend to be employed in car-dependent contexts especially - is this another pillar for support of that dependency, or is it rather a way to create community around a slow and complex machine? Would it be used for pedestrians and bicycles? Would it be as celebrated?

In terms of culture, it is interesting how such a small practice can be a mirror of how entrenched individualism and the celebration of objects and machines, as well as the need to machines to facilitate private-car mobility can be in a culture. And the flipside of fun and community that is celebrated in the same moment. It also seems to highlight how such practices seem common across continents when they have language and colonial histories, but not across to other cultures, even when snow and snowplowing certainly exist in many other cultures.

Much to continue to think about, as we all seek the warm or the cool in this changing world! Do share your thoughts below! Ideas for more snowplow names are also more than welcome! (Maybe this post will, after all, cause an internationalization of the practice beyond English-speaking countries?)

 

Feature #2: Poetry and how mobility can make us think (otherwise?)

15 November 2023

The poem "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost is a widely cited classic. It speaks of possibilities, choices, risk - and of course anything you as a reader would like to interpret there. This is not the only reference in poetry to how decisions in terms of mobility can make a huge difference in how a life ends up progressing. Think of "Caminante", by Antonio Machado Ruiz, writing of how we make our own way precisely by walking it (a part of it is translated into English here, though be careful with the translation of poetry - it may be beautiful, but I suspect the meaning and timbre can never be quite the same...). In these symbolic treatments of the road, path, way, it seems somehow unsurprising that the mode is the most self-determined of all: walking. Nevertheless, I remember my English class in high-school, which led me to write my own bit of poetry and in which I chose to write about the experience of riding the overground metro in Berlin. The ways we move in our every-day lives certainly seem to provide inspiration, for whom and when there is a moment to stop and think about it at least. Might such a reflection even suddenly make us think otherwise, that is, in some way differently from the stream of thoughts we tend to be led by?

This month the feature is intended to inspire any reader to take a few minutes, be it two or ten or thirty, to reflect on the larger meaning of their daily mobility practices. If you feel inspired, it might even inspire a poem?

Here is my own amateur attempt at one, based on that exact exercise, in this precise moment (unfiltered, all imperfections intended and stood by - after all, this is about sharing an emotion and inspiration, not about necessarily creating a lasting piece of art - though who knows, you might! :) ):

The cobblestones seem to wobble
Under my feet
As the insecurities of life
Make for endless possibilities

I might stumble
I might fall
I might jump
I might fly
I might dive right in
To discover welcoming soil
For new life and
Recycled ideas

The cobblestones give
With all their insecurity
A sense of reality and potential
That closed asphalt
Could never give

(Much as cycling
Or driving on cobblestones
Has me cursing all the way!
…
Is that to trick me into walking?)

_{Poem by Kim C. v. Schönfeld, 15 November 2023}

 

_{Tiled gallery with varying impressions of pavements/cobblestones in Bergen, Porto and London. All photos by Kim C. v. Schönfeld.}

As always, please feel free to share any thoughts or comments, or even a poem (yours, or someone else's as long as properly credited!). This post reflects some important essences of Mobile Worlds: the idea of using different forms of art and expression to connect to various ways of thinking about mobility. And the idea of how thinking about mobility can sometimes inspire thinking about deeper things we care about. This will be further explored throughout the project as well.

 

Feature #1: Ghibli movies, sustainable mobility, and third cultures

13 October 2023

Based on conversations between Wendy and Kim

This post is not the first one to connect Studio Ghibli movies to questions of mobility, and to cultural analysis. Here are some beautiful sources on the subject, that might inspire you to check out some of the movies, and think about how they romanticize different modes of travel:

• The short Youtube video “Ghibli films, walkable cities, and aimless drifting” by Diya Dulle;
• The opinion piece “Planes, trains, and Cat Buses: Studio Ghibli movies are obsessed with travel” by Monica Castillo;
• And the list of most desirable Ghibli transport modes “Eleven of the Best and Worst Forms of Transport in Ghibli Movies” by Chaline Jao.

And some images found on Pixabay and Unsplash related to Ghibli:

It doesn't seem coincidental that Ghibli movies are frequently children’s movies (though they are just as enticing to many adults, and watching these films at different ages tends just to make us notice different things…). They create utopias to inspire children in terms of the world they might like to live in, and in these utopias children move autonomously. It is certainly also related to Japanese culture, in which autonomous mobility at an early age is quite common. However, we would argue that through its international reach, Ghibli movies have touched a third culture aspect that is within all humans – that is, a cultural essence that can perhaps be stirred within any context. A human and childlike wish for exploration, discovery, a little tension caused by the sensation that we might get lost, but that we might also find something or someone crucial for our lives. This wish is actualized through autonomous mobility in any environment – be it a city’s crowded neighbourhood, a seemingly endless series of fields and occasional rural buildings, or a dense forest. There are many themes to explore here, but the one about the mobility frequently not depending on an adult to allow the child to go somewhere is particularly interesting. Many Ghibli characters walk (often very far), and then there are those that navigate their own small boat, fly on a broom, fly a self-made airplane, make friends with an animal or animated bus (e.g. the bus cat) that takes them where they ask, or enter a train that you yourself choose to enter and exit at any stop. Sometimes the children build machines that they themselves know how to make work as well as how to repair.

Isn’t it interesting that for so many children and adults this imaginary has such power to inspire and attract and create longing, while at the same time in our daily lives, we as adults tend to create cities in which we depend on private machines (most frequently cars) made by others, which we do not know how to repair, and that do not encourage exploratory walks that allow for wonder and inspiration to arise?

Finally, I (Kim) leave some images I've taken in Bergen and Porto that elicited a little bit of a Ghibli feeling for me:

Bergen:

Porto:

Perhaps, if you look closely, you can find a little corners of that Ghilbli third culture in every city...