I must not start to think that one stage in my life was more beautiful than the other. I prefer to think that the one I'm in will turn out to be the best one and that this is the one that I will in the end be lyrical and poetic about, but in a sober minded way. The way a Dutch person can be lyrical in a stark and barren way that does not show too much emotion lest he makes a fool of himself. There's to be not too much passion, because we are Calvinistic people, after all, even if some of us are… Continue

I always feel that whatever I write here has to be very inspirational.  That I can't just write about run of the mill matters here and ordinary things that occur in my day to day life. God only knows where I got such an idea. It's not as if these sentences are loftier than my other sentences, so I shouldn't treat them that way or try to write  that way, otherwise I may get intimidated and develop writer's block and that won't do at all. I need to take these writings down a notch or two and…

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He told me that his wife had left him and had run off with the milkman.



I found this pretty incredulous, because it sounded like part of an old joke that had been around forever and where do you find a milkman delivering milk door to door anymore?



He said it had happened in the early seventies and that as a result of it, he had stopped using all dairy products and only took artificial creamer in his coffee and never had whipped cream or ice cream with his piece of pie… Continue

The moon throws a thin light into our homesick house and winter starlight pulls vague shadows over the sun dried sheets, pale reflections of me; crisp lies the moonlight on my pillow.



The dim night beckons, expectant with its bloated moon, but I scorn it and have no will but to lie here, ignoring a string a love struck lights that tremble in the distance.



I heed instead the mindless creatures that scurry over the forest floor; hurrying through their dreamless nights,… Continue

Confused, I run into the light, but when I get there, it is dark and in the air hangs a denial of anyone ever having been there.



I smash myself against the gray walls of your soul.



Your eyes are forbidding and cold and reflect no hope for me.



A scream builds up inside my belly and is doomed to reverberate inside me forever.



My soul lies in my hands, cradled in my fingers and I hold it up to the light.



It trembles from its violent… Continue