After boiling for five hours in a concoction of #garlic, herbs, and stock, the shoe was ready to eat and #Herzog could keep his promise to fellow director Errol Morris.

“More shoes, more boots, more garlic.”

– Werner Herzog

Within the boundaries of Sharon Lockhart's static camera, girls from Goshogaoka junior high school practice basketball. In six uninterrupted 10 minute scenes, we see them warm up and train several typical moves, shots, and blocks. With the camera set in one position, some of the action happens off-screen, resulting in unrehearsed synchronised choreography.

As long as they can remember, jaaniõhtu is when Estonians gather to celebrate midsummer. It started, they'll tell you, 4000 years ago when Kaali appeared. Ever since, come rain or shine, come socialism or capitalism, the people gather and light bonfires in its remembrance. Some sing the songs of the elders, memory willing. Others see this as their moment to shine. As a great musician perhaps. A faithful worker. Or a lover, for jaanipäev; #midsummer night.

“Come, this party is for hard-working people!”

Opens with Nature Boy and #garlic propagandist Gypsy Boots.

Some of the leads play out their hopes and dreams and are named after famous actors from Western films. Petit Touré is #EddieConstantine.

“Thus, I do not see what use there is in those mills of the gods said to grind so late as to render punishment hard to be recognized, and to make wickedness fearless”

– Plutarch, Moralia (1 A.D.)

Someone mentions getting sober.

“When I get myself – cleaned up and straightened out, I'm going down and get a ship and I'm going to wind up in South Sea islands. That's where I wanna go!”

It's December 6, 1969 and just like that, the 60s were over. It started out great, the West Coast edition of Woodstock. Santana, Jefferson Airplane, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, a 300.000 strong crowd and, of course, The Rolling Stones on the final leg of their US tour. And, of course too, Hells Angels armed with motorcycle chains, sawed-off pool cues and $500 worth of beer, hired to stop fans from climbing the stage. And not in the least due to its proximity to Frisco, lots of bad drugs mixing with that crowd.

“Well, The Rolling Stones tour of the United States is over. It wounded up with a free concert at the Altamont Speedway for more than 300,000 people. There were four births, four deaths and an awful lot of scuffles reported.”

– Stefan Ponek, KSN Radio

Even before a single note had come out of Mick's mouth, someone had punched him in the head. More scuffles, Grace Slick begs the audience to keep their bodies off each other unless they intend love. The Grateful Dead, regular deployers of peaceful Angels security, wisely forfeit their performance. The Stones open their set, the final set of the day. By then, the Angels are far into their $500 beer bounty, and the audience far out of their mind. Meredith Hunter, high on drugs, had brought a gun. And the Angels did what they were ordered to: stop anyone from getting close.

“I done wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale; Handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder in jail; Only last week, I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick; I’m so mean I make medicine sick.”

– Muhammad Ali

R… ne répond plus is Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne's exploring the airwaves. Some is clearly political. Radio Schwarzi Chatz (“Radio Black Cat”) and the feminist witches from Wellenhexe (”[radio] wave witch”) have important messages, unheard of in the mainstream media. Others broadcast in languages on the verge of extinction, so may that tongue survive in a world that – already forty years ago – was rapidly homogenising.

“This is called the comeback of reality.”

And then there are those, they're unnamed, who travel the land and across the borders with walkie-talkies – those too are radios, two-way – using their meandering frequencies to hold on to reality. It's all very elusive, but it's there. Maybe #radio is not dead. We just need to learn how to tune into that Enochian frequency again. It's real after all.