Wat schrijf je.



Ja ik weet dat ik niet wit of grijs ben. Nee ik heb daar geen problemen mee.


In het openbaar schrijven leidt soms tot vragen.

dus ik schreef een gedichtje ter antwoord, dat er

in iedergeval 1 verantwoord deelbaar ding in mijn boekje staat

misschien schrijf ik hem vanaf nu in al mijn boekjes,

zodat ik altijd een antwoord bij de and heb op ‘wat schrijf je’


Wat schrijf je?

Mijn dagboek

mijn lief leed leuk

en lekker dramatisch

dagboek. mijn het

komt nooit meer goed

en het leven is prachtig

woorden, verhalen en

plaatjes boek.

Misschien is dat het

antwoordt dat je zoekt?


Trauma worth writing about

And as we stood outside looking at each other with a

‘what the hell just happened’ face I said: this is going to be

a ‘great’ story. And she said. yeah. You might really

need to write this one out of your system.

And although being fearful of a scared cat that acts

seriously violent -is a tellable story, most of them aren’t

and even when the story is funny, the feelings you felt

when it happened are not. How do stories work

when talking, telling and writing about things seems impossible?


the dark lines seem like the ones in our minds, but the silver lining however small gives hope.


Clearing out the mess

As I prepared to clean up the trash, all the

mess of things that are left

around the house of left by the owner

before and by us. I’m met with a beauty

unexpected, an attachment previously

less detected. The mess is so beautiful

I can hardly imagine to throw it.

I try not to be less attached to people than things

but isn’t it wonderful, to see the beauty in everything?

and I took some photo’s, that do not do justice

to the beauty that I saw. but they are a witness to

my love.



Afraid of the water


Even the puddles scare me these days.

For so long, I’ve been afraid of the water

If I was Jonah I wouldn’t get on that boat

Hell no, I’d go to Nineve.

Tell strangers of doom and God’s salvation,

His story, not mine anyway.


If I was Jonah, I wouldn’t have gone to that boat.

And in the end- I would have learned,

How God is good for a city, a stranger, the one who repents

But never

That he will send a fish,

when I deserve being thrown out of the boat

or rather when I jump, simply give up.

My God won’t let me drown.

Black swan

There was a man,


At night, around the corner with the red light.

and since he was holding

a camera with a big lens

I knew -he was standing

still with a purpose.

Because a lens or an

aimed pair of eyes,

tell you there’s something to see


And for me, this was the moment

to check if I did not just

see something wasn’t there

but actually something that

shouldn’t be there.


But it was. I saw something impossible

They live on the other side of the

world right?

And as i told the story i almost

wondered if i made it up.

but sleep deprived as i was

going home it was there once again

and then I captured it-

while it warned me-

the lights, the road blocks

and the special spiecies.


almost looks fake right?



in de bibliotheek



This is not a book but a story all the same. 

En even als het net


nog geen tijd is om terug

te gaan naar de boeken,

schrijf ik. Wiebel ik woorden.

Ik freubel met letters liever

dan met ideeën of gevoelens.

Want mijn ideeën staan in de steigers

en mijn gevoel laat ik

even wachten in het

wit tusssen de regels.

later als ik die tussenregels

verzamel en kijk, zal ik

misschien weten wat

mijn hart op de witregels

tussen andermans woorden


Hijack my feelings

Won’t you just go on,

Hijack my feelings

my thoughts and ideas

if I am soluble enough to


Walking on your own.

share them.

I don’t want to fight

over what you think

that might be different

than what I feel


and oh here I am again-

I didn’t need you to tell me right

from wrong I was just curious

And oh here I am again-

I did not stop you from talking

but I don’t appreciate you walking

all over me again.


In the small space between

not the time or the place

I find myself back on track knowing

who I am once again.


And in the small space between

stepping out and rushing in

I can hear my thoughts

once again.

No words

I use poetry. When there are no words

and yet to many that cannot bare response.

When all the conversations are said and done

and pointless to the point of disconnection

poetry is the connection that I make with myself

to find out its ok to wallow in the silence with words

poems will forever say more than the words

that I could say, than I wanted to. struggling

once again with and for a silence that is

bearing words, and me clinging them to the page

to collect the things that freely float phrases

despair and hope and there is a hope in poetry

that I can share some of the silence the distance

the coexisting peacefully quiet, with words

that are more than me. Are a part from me

are beauty in the silence of overcrowdedness.


I want to stay in the places between the lights.

To tell a story

So I wonder and wobble


All the layers I stare through- or rather stare too.

around the edges in writing

and making while people

tell stories.


And I over observe and

measure the worth of

what I find slowly and slowly


A person can only share themselves

so many times, but can he share

a story with anyone? whose

are the rules and what are the parameters

of what is here and not?


And beauty is there but seekers

are too and I wonder what I am

an observer slowly meddling

and perhaps unwillingly sharing

who I am.


But if I am the fly on the wall

the eyes in the back, the words

written down. perhaps

I could be even more silent

invisible and observant

only when knowing what it is

I see and experience,

I can judge the real for the fast

and easy. Long story short-

I’m still in the middle, exploring

and carefully hoarding impressions

words eyes and expressions

collecting and sorting

making my own of a new home.

If want it to be, If I want it to be

I have to figure out who is me,

In here. In others, what bothers

what can and cannot but also what

I want to be, share, hope, believe

feel, exist.

Stitch the things you want to see in the world.


Whoever designed this sign is absolutely brilliant

The famous quote ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’ -MichalScofieldd slips it to Sarah Tencredi to establish a kind of connection on his first visit to the doctors office as part of this plan to escape Fox River Prison. I don’t know how bad it is that when I saw the quote used for an event on Facebook, I had to think of Sarah and Micheal and had to google who is responsible for the quote, or who it is attributed to (Mahatma Gandhi).

One way or another, the title of this post is a reference to this famous phrase. Seeing the quote embroidered I thought of an alternative ‘Stitch the things you want to see in the world’. These days, in the time of Facebook and Instagram it is very easy to see many talented (embroidery) artists, and I follow quite a lot of them. Seeing a bit of their process and quite ‘flat’ work of embroidery it would be easy to copy their style or re-imagine their work. The truth is, I did this myself, funnily enough, due to the fact that I am never so committed to copying something exactly, and am stuck with my own ideas and work ethics- and so my stitches still produce work that is quite different from the point of inspiration.

The ‘Jacobean’ sampler was inspired by what embroidery fairy godmother Mary Corbet posted years ago., The gray on white stripes are an attempt to embroider a face based on a photograph- not entirely sure where that came from… The little rabbit is an attempt to make something like  Chloe Giordano.

Ever since I started making things it was not that I had truly original ideas that no one ever had before, rather I would see something and think: I should be able to do this, and do it better, or at least my way. Being the change you want to see in the world is quite a big challenge, it suggests that things should change and you have to be the driving force to make it happen. Quite the pressure. I like the idea of stitching the things I want to see- I may not be able to change the world or peoples mind, but I can add something I have not seen before, my vision. Today I went to the movies to see ‘The greatest showman’ while not truly revolutionary the premise of the film intrigued me. one of the first songs that are sung state:

The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it’s gonna take
A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make –“A Million Dreams” The greatest showman. 

The words might as well be an impression of my own thoughts mind and heart. Although not new,  the song reminded me again of how wonderful it is to dream and make dreams come true.  And how wonderful it is to touch things in person that were only figments of imagination. To see that they are so similar or different than they started out with just a thought. A stitch or a work of art might not seem as things that have much influence on the world and the state of things on the scale of Gandhi’s work (although weaving was one of the crafts supported by his work), it holds a metaphor for the rest of life. So yeah, I dare you 31 days into the new year to stitch the things you want to see. Because you’ll learn and further develop a (new) skill – because you’ll find your strengths and limitations. But mostly because you will witness the creation and the possibility of creating anything.