Stundom kan ein sjå (Sometimes our eyes are open)

I often find it hard to be present, and I am not really sure what it actually means to be present. In the aftermath of Marina Abramovic's The artist is present, I wonder if there is a growing distance between our being and our existing in the world. Are we getting more like mechanically existing observers instead of living and participant human beings? Some years ago I wrote in my notebook: I live in my head, I travel in books. The description still fits, though there are times I feel that I am really present in the world. These images are signs of that kind of presence.