Dreh es um.

The brighter the packaging, the dirtier what’s inside.

Step inside

I · My story

Two hands grip a washbasin at night; in the fogged-up mirror, only a blurred face.

Nothing wrong, they said. I looked like I was dying.

Six years. No doctor found a thing.

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II · The back of the pack

In a dark supermarket aisle, two hands turn a cereal box over; on the back, a wall of small print.

Turn the pack over. And then stop laughing.

Sunshine on the front. The truth on the back.

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III · The marketing promises

In the dark, a hand reaches for grinning packs plastered with seals, already crumbling at the back.

The serpent wasn’t the devil. It worked in sales.

Eat this and you shall be as God.

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IV · The capsule

Hands pull a capsule apart; white powder trickles out next to an elegant black jar with a gold label.

What you pay for. And what’s really inside.

Expensively packed. Cheaply filled.

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V · The 3-second check

In a dark supermarket aisle, two hands turn a pack over; a strip of light falls on the small print.

Three moves. In the shop. On the jar.

No app. Nothing to memorise.

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VI · Fluoride

In a dark bathroom, hands hold a toothbrush with toothpaste on it, and the tube.

Fluoride: the substance nobody adds up.

Go on, count along.

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VII · From lab to plate

A hand in a blue lab glove drips something from a pipette onto a bright pink pudding on a child’s plate.

From the lab to the plate.

Three findings. One ends differently.

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VIII · Who owns what

A hand holds a puppeteer’s control bar, with strings running down to the brightly coloured packs on the shelf.

Who owns the whole shop.

Level three is the commercial register.

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IX · The vegan shelf

A hand holds up a green pack covered in leaves against a wall where the shadow of a factory falls.

And the vegan shelf.

Same exercise, different shelf.

Read on →

And now

Enough standing around in the dark.

That was one half. Now the other: they still exist, the shops no corporation owns. Come outside with me.

Outside, it’s simpler than you’d think.

From here on, it gets light

Outside

X · How to spot them

In a sunny farm shop, hands hold a plain paper bag with just a few lines printed on it.

Five questions. After that, nobody sells you a story again.

How to spot them

XI · What your body needs

What your body needs.

Tap on it. The table tells you the rest.

A wooden table in the sunlight: walnuts, almonds, pumpkin seeds, spinach, lentils, eggs, milk, honey, maple syrup, a water carafe, a lemon, rolled oats, rye bread, sea salt, parsley and an amber glass jar. A hand rests on the table.

XII · Four manufacturers

In the morning light, hands open a capsule; deep green powder falls next to a plain amber glass jar.

Four manufacturers I earn nothing from.

And why they’re here anyway

XIII · The letter

Calm hands write a letter with a fountain pen in the morning light, tea and wildflowers beside them.

This one I’m only writing once. To you.

The letter

XIV · The books

Two hands rest on an open book in the sunlight, next to a stack of books and a cup of tea.

The same, only bigger

The books that go with it