I enter the hospital room and there he is, sitting up straight in his bed with his bald head hanging low into his hands. Even though I can’t see his face, his thin long fingers reveal his bones. He doesn’t seem to notice me. Outside the room on the hallway are my mother and his […]
Maybe the man with the hat is my real father. Hiding behind his newspaper four seats away in the train. I spoke with him over the phone a couple of weeks ago, but all I had was this tiny photograph of him. His face was pushed half out of the picture frame by me, a […]
The sand nestled itself between my little toes. I had never been to the beach with my mother before. Usually when I visited her we would go to the park or just cycle around the city, with me on the little seat at the front of her bike, my eyes navigating our way. This time […]
The difficulty with abstract expressionism like that of Barnett Newman is that it doesn’t represent something (immediately) recognizable. That doesn’t necessary mean there is nothing to relate to though.
Since our move to Holland and the purchase of our house A and I needed a sunny holiday. Having been to the Greek islands of Lefkas and Samos before, this time we decided to go to the larger island of Lesbos.