The magic of running from a great converstation

So. Imagine this movie scene. One of the characters goes and sits on a bench on a small airport, notices the other character, who seems to be a Russian, since the book he reads has Cyrillic letters. The characters stay side by side and little to nothing seems to be happening. and then… The supposedly Russian guy starts talking to the girl who came to sit next to him. And we have no idea what he says, neither does the girl. We find out that for some reason the guy thought that maybe this girl was from his country, and for that reason spoke to her in an unknown language. Everyone can guess what happens next: they start to talk about where they came from and where they are going and the meaning of life. Since the conversation is not finished and they both have to catch a flight they travel together through security and follow the flow of the conversation. And then. In a split second the girl realizes she is late for her flight, and without knowing anything about this guy except where he is from and where he is going and his vision of life she runs off, leaving what this conservation could be when she would not be running off, to everyone’s imagination.

In the second scene, we see this girl again. This time she is in the town where she lives. She carries a book and goes to sit on a bench and there she reads it. A little later a guy comes and sits next to her, working on his laptop. Nothing really happens for a long time, until the girl puts the book next to her on the bench and the wind opens the book, and takes out one of the precious notes this girl found in this book, that she has on permanent loan from someone she loves. Of course, for dramatic purposes this bench is on a canal side and the note flies to the water and lands there. The girl runs after it and since she does not know how to get the note back she considers quickly reading it again and copying it. Yet then the guy that until now did nothing of particular interest comes over, puts away his phone and jumps in to the boat that is next to the note and rescues the piece of paper. The guy asks: “Was it a shopping list? Because sometimes when I find other people’s shopping lists I buy the things that are on there.” The girl is a bit confused and starts copying the note to a book, to save its content and to wait until it is dry. When she finishes she decides to continue the conversation and you can imagine what happens, they end up talking about where they came from and where they are going and the meaning of life. The sun moves around the sky and the shades get longer. Yet the girl has no clue what time it is until she gets a phone call from the person that she is supposed to meet: she is half an hour late. The two introduce themselves to one another, spell their first names and the girl runs off, leaving what this conservation could be when she would not be running off, to everyone’s imagination.

Far away

oh the freedom to feel

a home that I found

The mess that someone just

puts me right into

And all of the blessings that I have

To kling to

I’ll be alright i’ll be yours god

and meet you

whereever you bring me.

On the edge of the dream

New exiting things going on, somethings ending, some space for developement. This poem is almost a year old but it describes what i feel now perfectly!

I don’t dare to write

All the things I feel inside

All the stories thought

And besides I forgot

Them so many times


what is more beautiful than the cold bright expecting of a new day

I know that these sound

Different I know I’m

Not so sure as I was

Before that these are

All lies, my thoughts

And hopes can never

Be right


Let all that is beauty

Be loved

Let all that is precious

Be seen

Let all that is given

Be touched


Protect all that is dear

Protect all that’s not ready yet

Protect all of my fear


Lead me slow ahead

Lead me to the truth

That’s always highlighted

In disguise

Lead me to the insight that

My longing can be right


That I can be found

That I can find

That we can share

That time will tell

That loves not blind

That right is strong

That heart and mind

And soul can be

On the same line.

Scars that have been there a long time

Fight against all that fights you

All the enemies in your head

All the things that harm you

All the things that hurt


And maybe sometime I’ll see the enemy within me.

The enemy that fights me, the enemy that hurts

The enemy that so quickly says:

They are fight your- they must be right

They are fighting you- they must be wrong and they must die.


Then the angel comes and saves me

And he opens up my eyes

He shows me there are no weapons

Although the wounds are real

And he shows me to the cross

And he put me in the light

And the wounds they heal – the

Wounds that came from scars

That have been there a long time.

The rocking chair


The mess of blury lines

Oh you rock us back and forth back and forth

Like one would to let the baby sleep, back and forth back and forth

But this ride on the rocking chair doesn’t allow sweet dreams to come

Rather it is nightmares and remembering that you are still awake.

What is the price for getting off walking away and

not be so affected any more?


write something-poem/proze

I wanted to write something,

Perhaps about 100 words, not write it under my own name. Or perhaps indeed under my own name. To create understanding, to create art in this craziness.

I’m not the only one who has seen someone they love in the midst of their delusions but I must say it has been a ride. The constant: what is real and wat is rigorously wrong?

The heighted senses when alone, the far-away-ness when together. The strange all compassing weight of it and at the same time knowing that I am all right. It is just someone else’s life spinning out of control, spinning mixing into mine. Not sure what to do with it. Oh, the tricks of the mind.


Who took the sun from your eyes. Translation


So here it comes, another bilingual post. I’ve been flirting with the idea of translation for some time. Living in Amsterdam and being in the community that I am I perhaps read/write speak/hear English and Dutch 50/50. That makes as well that although most of the Dutch people I know, know English, not all my friends or readers know Dutch. Yet sometimes you want to share something of beauty from a to other unknown language and that’s where translation comes in. In Dutch the word for translation is vertalen, however, we also sometimes especially with poetry use the word ‘hertalen’. Even though it is not an official word is it quite useful, it literally translated means re-language. Basically you rewrite in another language. One of the great examples of this in the Dutch language is Herman van Veen, a Dutch artist whose songs often have an original in another language. He for instance sings several Leonard Cohen songs in Dutch, (such as Susanne) but instead of translating it literally he will make the song his own, and in that way adding another layer. Today I came across one of his songs, ”wie heeft de zon uit jou gezicht gehaald” literally, who took the sun from out of your face? it’s a beautiful song about some of the ugliest things in life. I wanted to share it with you guys so I translated it from Dutch to English. the fun thing is that the ‘original’ song was a French song from Catherine Lara – La craie dans l’encrier. Interestingly enough only the music is the same, the lyrics bare no real resemblance. I took the Dutch lyrics from the web, translation is my own. Feel free to comment on whether or not you think it’s done justice!

Who took the sun from your eyes?

Who extinguished the light in you?

Who turned your red cheeks into white

Who chased the dreams far from your mind?

Who broke your tiny heart

Painted your eyes so black

Who did not live up to the promises he made


Who smothered the laughter in your throat?

Who clenched your hands into fists?

Who killed that child so frank and free?

That always stands up when it falls

Who bend your straight strong back

Stamped on your toys to crack

Who broke your wings in the highest of their flight?


Who passed you by so easily

Who betrays your faith in this?

Who kept silent even until

The third rooster crowed to show

Who is it that forgot, that

You held the future in your heart

Who was it that just like, me, did not love you enough

Who was it that just like, me, did not love you enough

Terrible at falling in love

Oh, how have you bewitched me. DSC01859

The thing is it is not you.

I’m a goldfish.



I have an inability to stay mad at a person no matter how much they have hurt me in the past. I can’t help to fall over and over when I once have fallen in love. And falling over and over doesn’t mean the person in question is the one.It just means that I had a very good reason to be insprired by them, and I cannot yet let go of the attraction to more information they hold.

DSC01853I want to ask this.

I want to ask that.

I want to take you anywhere to see what you’re made of.

I want to love hold and kiss you.

I want to be able to turn back and not be affected  by the fact you are in fact different.

So far my rant on love :).

If you doubt…

You are not in as much

Darkness as you see to be

Light is just behind you won’t you

Slowly together with me turn around

towards the light.


The sun is not some grand lamp you made up.

The lion not a big cat formed in your thoughts

The darkness you see is only clouds


There is time

There is space

There is real life


some world that is just a reflection @ la villette parc, paris

Bright new Things // Lying awake in New York City

I saw the clock swap


Poem Clock in central station//metro



Or better said

Three times

An hour passed

And sometimes

I don’t know why,


Ceiling at the MET

But i lie awake at night

And think about my life.

And now i write

A song while

It’s still half dark and I

Cannot write between the lines


Wooster Street

Makes me wonder

Why i even try
To sleep at al

Is there any more beautiful thing

Right now

Than watch and hear


NYC @ Night

Thoughts and days


Evolve to

Bright new things

Bright new things