"The future lies ahead like a glittering city, but like cities in the desert, it vanishes as you approach it. In a certain light, you can easily see the towers and domes, even the people walking back and forth. We talk about it with longing and love. The future. But the city isn’t real. The future, the present, and the past exist only in our minds, and from a distance, the boundaries of all three shrink and fade like the borders of hostile countries as seen from a city floating in the sky. The river flows from one country to another without stopping. And even the most solid and real things—the dearest and most familiar—are merely shadows of a hand on the wall. Empty space and little dots.”

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-Jeanette Winterson, Sexing the Cherry

Somewhere, nowhere in the world, where south is not south and tomorrow does not exist, a peculiar cornfield grows. Beneath a sky so bright blue that dreaming clouds disappear into it, and a monstrous sun forgets to set. As if time has forgotten itself.

Young people in Brussels seek relief from the heat in the canal. There is still no safe place to swim. A siren foretells disaster. A dark stain beneath the sun. 

An afternoon with two friends. 

"Deep, abiding friendships are the place where many women know lasting love."

- Bell Hooks

A man wants to reheat yesterday's coffee in the microwave. When, instead of heating it up, the microwave makes the coffee disappear, a grim battle begins. 

A grandfather watches his grandson cycling and muses on the time that lies between them.

My family says goodbye to a home in order to build a new one.

Impressions from multiple universes.

'For the love of the game' shows an afternoon in Brussels’ Jubelpark and Ambiorix Square. Images of the basketball courts and football pitches and the life around them are linked to a conversation with Tevin. 

A man, a dog and a cake make their way through the city. Somewhere further on, Daisy is waiting for them.

In the first week of summer, essential questions arise: what came first, what followed, what is a dream? Flies circle a hand, an egg travels along an arm, the heat festers. A fever of fragments, in which the answers hatch too late, or never.

In Matongé, Brussels, the camera focuses on what easily goes unnoticed: hands that work and create, the fabrics, techniques and textures that shape the everyday streetscape. Art is not only found in museums, but also in the everyday. At its heart is capturing Black people and their world. The hands and materials become carriers of stories, culture, craftsmanship and history.