I have no idea what time it is. I am sleep-deprived. I feel good. The timer on the tray the waiter put on my table to serve the oolong tea I ordered along with a slice of creamy-looking, icing sugar-topped cheesecake 2 minutes and 30 seconds ago starts to beep. I take the strainer out of the glass, take a sip, and [hopefully only almost] burn my upper lip and my palate.

I am in Ulm. I was born in Ulm. My parents moved away when I was about three months old. Ever since, I have never been there again. It has been nothing but a city name on my birth certificate, passport, and ID. I wrote it countless times on forms that required personal information. Without knowing anything about this place, let a lone having a relationship with it.
[All I know: Albert Einstein was born in Ulm, the tower of the Ulmer Münster is this world’s highest church tower, and the city’s basketball team is decent.]

I am sitting in the Aegis Café; a café attached to a local bookshop with the same name. It is spacious and cozy. Mixed mid-century chairs and tables, a few antique armchairs in between. Burgundy red brick-like, shiny tiles on half a wall next to the entrance, sage and rosé painted walls across the room. Books on the windowsills, light pop music playing, a pair of women on the tables both to my left and right, chatting in Swabian. Despite the variety of shapes, styles, and colors, this place makes me feel calm. 

One of the women on my left is glad she recently got rid of her Reizhuschde. I am happy for her she is feeling well. So do I. I am fully recovered from the mysterious fever I had a couple of weeks ago, right on time to travel to Ulm. I arrived on Sunday. It is Wednesday today. The cheesecake is firmer than it looked. Juicy. My oolong tea has cooled down just enough to be pleasantly hot, yet drinkable.

Shortly after I started to work on 40 Nights in Toronto and returned to Berlin last year in July, the seed for my follow-up project was already planted. Instead of drowning in nostalgia about my night walks through downtown Toronto and getting slowed down by the mismatch between Berlin’s aesthetic and my artistic vision, I asked myself: 
Why don’t I challenge myself to find what attracted me to Toronto in Berlin? Why don’t I start a treasure hunt in the city I fled in search of a new environment? Why don’t I start to fall in love with where I am RIGHT NOW?

I want to show that we can find what we are longing for — everywhere, anytime. We focus on what we don't have and miss what's right in front of us.

When we stop and observe, there will be something to fall in love with RIGHT NOW. Something that is everything we are hoping to get or become in the future. The present is as fulfilling and exciting as any goal we are working towards, not knowing if we will ever reach it, or how we will feel when we reach it. 

Toward the end of the production process of 40 Nights in Toronto, I had an epiphany about my artistic vision and output until I reach episode 237/237 of disconnect on 7 August 2033. This vision included – inspired by my transformational stay in Toronto in May and June 2024 – a yearly trip to disconnect, film for, and lay out my next project.

I already filmed a few videos for Why don't You... last winter in Berlin, and will continue when I return. This meant I didn’t need to travel to a place where I would film — so visiting Ulm came to mind. I didn’t think of it as a place that matched my aesthetic vision. Yet, I had gotten increasingly curious over the past years about exploring the city I was born in. Therefore, Ulm felt like a natural choice for my disconnect trip this year.

After being here for three days, I am positively surprised that I was wrong. I should have trusted my own words: I can find what I am longing for no matter where I am.

Why don't You start to fall in love with where You are RIGHT NOW?

glg Soda Paapi

[to be continued on 28 September 2025]

PS: Every morning and every night, I went on a spaziergang. In the morning, along the Danube, the same route every day. At night, through the city center, exploring different places. Except for one day: dark clouds and distant rumbles announced a thunderstorm shortly before the sun set. The weather pulled me out to follow my morning route. I took an umbrella and enjoyed an ethereal evening walk:

I have no idea what time it is. I am sleep-deprived. I feel good. The timer on the tray the waiter put on my table to serve the oolong tea I ordered along with a slice of creamy-looking, icing sugar-topped cheesecake 2 minutes and 30 seconds ago starts to beep. I take the strainer out of the glass, take a sip, and [hopefully only almost] burn my upper lip and my palate.

I am in Ulm. I was born in Ulm. My parents moved away when I was about three months old. Ever since, I have never been there again. It has been nothing but a city name on my birth certificate, passport, and ID. I wrote it countless times on forms that required personal information. Without knowing anything about this place, let a lone having a relationship with it.
[All I know: Albert Einstein was born in Ulm, the tower of the Ulmer Münster is this world’s highest church tower, and the city’s basketball team is decent.]

I am sitting in the Aegis Café; a café attached to a local bookshop with the same name. It is spacious and cozy. Mixed mid-century chairs and tables, a few antique armchairs in between. Burgundy red brick-like, shiny tiles on half a wall next to the entrance, sage and rosé painted walls across the room. Books on the windowsills, light pop music playing, a pair of women on the tables both to my left and right, chatting in Swabian. Despite the variety of shapes, styles, and colors, this place makes me feel calm. 

One of the women on my left is glad she recently got rid of her Reizhuschde. I am happy for her she is feeling well. So do I. I am fully recovered from the mysterious fever I had a couple of weeks ago, right on time to travel to Ulm. I arrived on Sunday. It is Wednesday today. The cheesecake is firmer than it looked. Juicy. My oolong tea has cooled down just enough to be pleasantly hot, yet drinkable.

Shortly after I started to work on 40 Nights in Toronto and returned to Berlin last year in July, the seed for my follow-up project was already planted. Instead of drowning in nostalgia about my night walks through downtown Toronto and getting slowed down by the mismatch between Berlin’s aesthetic and my artistic vision, I asked myself: 
Why don’t I challenge myself to find what attracted me to Toronto in Berlin? Why don’t I start a treasure hunt in the city I fled in search of a new environment? Why don’t I start to fall in love with where I am RIGHT NOW?

I want to show that we can find what we are longing for — everywhere, anytime. We focus on what we don't have and miss what's right in front of us.

When we stop and observe, there will be something to fall in love with RIGHT NOW. Something that is everything we are hoping to get or become in the future. The present is as fulfilling and exciting as any goal we are working towards, not knowing if we will ever reach it, or how we will feel when we reach it. 

Toward the end of the production process of 40 Nights in Toronto, I had an epiphany about my artistic vision and output until I reach episode 237/237 of disconnect on 7 August 2033. This vision included – inspired by my transformational stay in Toronto in May and June 2024 – a yearly trip to disconnect, film for, and lay out my next project.

I already filmed a few videos for Why don't You... last winter in Berlin, and will continue when I return. This meant I didn’t need to travel to a place where I would film — so visiting Ulm came to mind. I didn’t think of it as a place that matched my aesthetic vision. Yet, I had gotten increasingly curious over the past years about exploring the city I was born in. Therefore, Ulm felt like a natural choice for my disconnect trip this year.

After being here for three days, I am positively surprised that I was wrong. I should have trusted my own words: I can find what I am longing for no matter where I am.

Why don't You start to fall in love with where You are RIGHT NOW?

glg Soda Paapi

[to be continued on 28 September 2025]

PS: Every morning and every night, I went on a spaziergang. In the morning, along the Danube, the same route every day. At night, through the city center, exploring different places. Except for one day: dark clouds and distant rumbles announced a thunderstorm shortly before the sun set. The weather pulled me out to follow my morning route. I took an umbrella and enjoyed an ethereal evening walk: