Friday, November 20, 2015
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Spilling ink
How can a crowded place feel so empty?
Even during rush hour it's like everything is standing still.
Sometimes it feels like my head is an empty space. Where nothing happens. Even during rush hour. Silence.
But when I start writing, thoughts start spilling out. Writing fills up the empty spaces in my mind. Even though I'm not that big of a talker.
It's funny what writing can do for me.
Getting my inside out. Getting to know myself better with every ink spill.
He emptiness is filled for a second and flows out a second after that with my pen touching this paper.
There is so much in me that I myself haven't even discovered. There is a treasure hunt yet to go on.
Every day.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Catch that train
A Monster Energy comes falling from the sky
and before I know it two ice bears are waving at me.
No I'm not insane. That's just how I experienced it.
Sitting on the railway station. Not even waiting for a train.
Or perhaps I do, as a figure of speach.
Trains come floating by while people read their newspaper
or scroll through their phone. And before I notice it, they're gone.
Where the wind takes them. Picked up and on their way.
Wherever that may be. I have nowhere to go at the moment.
So I search the nightsky for stars, but all I see are lights.
My thoughts interrupted by the noise of the next train.
It doesn't even stop here. Those are the worse.
Trains you can't even get on.
Or the once you have to catch by going back
and then 20 minutes later you pass your starting point.
But hey! That's the way things go. You can't keep bulldozering forwards
without taking a step back sometimes.
People end up with a burnout.
Reflect, my education taught me...
But I ended up hating it so much. All because you are obligated to do so.
Don't push me to do stuff. I'm a stubborn Fox.
I wanna be free and do my own thing.
I only see three lights racing towards me at the moment.
The sounds of trains on either side of me.
It flashes by my eyes. One of them stops here. But I won't get in.
I just want to see what gets out of it.
I like to observe people. Let them do their thing.
As long as they don't bother me.
I'll just look and make up a story while we go.
Trains are the best places to write.
It passes time and there is so much to see.
The people on the train, on the platform or running to catch their train.
But also the views. Everything floats by. Going through all kinds of places.
Wide open fields, or rushhours roads or the greatest cities.
Every once in a while a place to get off the train you're on.
To go another direction. Stay there or hop onto the next adventure train.
Go on the path you think is the best. I sometimes just go to the station,
take the next best random train. To see where it might take me.
There's Always a way back or a way even further.
You can go thousands of miles or just go in rounds.
Don't pity when your train is delayed. It gives you that extra time.
The pause you need, the little step back to get on the next best train.
The one you HAVE to be on.
and before I know it two ice bears are waving at me.
No I'm not insane. That's just how I experienced it.
Sitting on the railway station. Not even waiting for a train.
Or perhaps I do, as a figure of speach.
Trains come floating by while people read their newspaper
or scroll through their phone. And before I notice it, they're gone.
Where the wind takes them. Picked up and on their way.
Wherever that may be. I have nowhere to go at the moment.
So I search the nightsky for stars, but all I see are lights.
My thoughts interrupted by the noise of the next train.
It doesn't even stop here. Those are the worse.
Trains you can't even get on.
Or the once you have to catch by going back
and then 20 minutes later you pass your starting point.
But hey! That's the way things go. You can't keep bulldozering forwards
without taking a step back sometimes.
People end up with a burnout.
Reflect, my education taught me...
But I ended up hating it so much. All because you are obligated to do so.
Don't push me to do stuff. I'm a stubborn Fox.
I wanna be free and do my own thing.
I only see three lights racing towards me at the moment.
The sounds of trains on either side of me.
It flashes by my eyes. One of them stops here. But I won't get in.
I just want to see what gets out of it.
I like to observe people. Let them do their thing.
As long as they don't bother me.
I'll just look and make up a story while we go.
Trains are the best places to write.
It passes time and there is so much to see.
The people on the train, on the platform or running to catch their train.
But also the views. Everything floats by. Going through all kinds of places.
Wide open fields, or rushhours roads or the greatest cities.
Every once in a while a place to get off the train you're on.
To go another direction. Stay there or hop onto the next adventure train.
Go on the path you think is the best. I sometimes just go to the station,
take the next best random train. To see where it might take me.
There's Always a way back or a way even further.
You can go thousands of miles or just go in rounds.
Don't pity when your train is delayed. It gives you that extra time.
The pause you need, the little step back to get on the next best train.
The one you HAVE to be on.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Monday, October 26, 2015
Saturday, October 24, 2015
Friday, October 23, 2015
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Friday, June 19, 2015
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Monday, June 8, 2015
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Friday, June 5, 2015
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Monday, June 1, 2015
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Friday, May 29, 2015
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Friday, May 22, 2015
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Friday, January 9, 2015
Empty Space
How can a crowded place feel so empty?
Even during Rush Hour it's like everything is standing still.
Sometimes it feels like my head is an empty space.
Where nothing happens, even silence during Rush Hour.
But when I start talking, thoughts start rolling out.
Talking fills up the spaces and I'm not even that big of a talker.
Maybe the emptiness is a strong thing for me.
Those are the places to explore or the things I allready know.
It's funny what writing can do with me. Getting my inner out.
Getting to know myself better, with every ink spill.
The emptiness is filled for a second while I write.
It flows out again a second after with my pen touching this paper.
There is so much more in me. That I myself haven't even discovered.
There is a treasure hunt yet to go on every day.
Sometimes I feel like this painting, with invisible content.
Only I haven't come across the artist yet... Can we meet soon?
Even during Rush Hour it's like everything is standing still.
Sometimes it feels like my head is an empty space.
Where nothing happens, even silence during Rush Hour. But when I start talking, thoughts start rolling out.
Talking fills up the spaces and I'm not even that big of a talker.
Maybe the emptiness is a strong thing for me.
Those are the places to explore or the things I allready know.
It's funny what writing can do with me. Getting my inner out.
Getting to know myself better, with every ink spill.
The emptiness is filled for a second while I write.
It flows out again a second after with my pen touching this paper.
There is so much more in me. That I myself haven't even discovered.
There is a treasure hunt yet to go on every day.
Sometimes I feel like this painting, with invisible content.
Only I haven't come across the artist yet... Can we meet soon?
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Friday, January 2, 2015
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