“On the other side of the river” reveals a story about longing for a native place, which is interrupted by a sudden and mysterious event. At the time, when I lived in the north of Norway, I often went to the nearby forest to take self-portraits. My favorite place to shoot had become a forest, which very much reminded me of Latvian nature – green ferns grew there and, for the north, the fir trees were unusually high. A few deciduous trees flourished there too. Taking self-portraits at this place had become a symbolic return home, and to get there I had to cross a border – a small forest river. One day, with all the necessary photographic equipment and wearing rain boots, I set off. After wading across the river and peacefully walking towards this favorite place of mine, something unexpected happened. There was the sound of a gunshot and a few meters from me a bullet exploded. Deeply scared, I started to scream not to shoot at me as I am not an animal. I was convinced that the shooter was a hunter who mistook me for a potential kill. At great speed I ran out of the forest and on reaching my apartment, I realized that I couldn't remember which way I got home. After a moment I called police – it turned out that hunting season in Norway had not yet begun. After analyzing the scene I drew the conclusion that most likely it had been a shot from a hunter's ladder that was set up between two birch trees. I had photographed this few days before the event. I no longer went to this place and I also didn’t take self-portraits for a while. I still haven’t fully understood what actually happened that day. Several years after the incident, some parts of this event remain in my memories while others gradually blur. Sometimes it feels like it never happened, just in my imagination.

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