Visiting my further me.
It‘s like coming home. Parts of me are already evolute – others not. Impressed, jealous, motivated to be brave,
to be who I want to be. Inspired to just do it.
Allow myself to fail.
Accept to fail.
Learn to fail better.
Street like rollercoasters
Uber race
Trains on time
No “wir entschuldigen die Verspätung ihre deutsche Bahn” [“we excuse the delay your deutsche Bahn”]
It’s tracked on time
I”m watching out for Michael Endes the man in grey and feel like Momo just with a camera instead of a turtle
Blueberries on boats
Typing vocalizing calling explaining next call shouting next call another language app birthday and a “ call you back after work” typing another call meeting tonight
Birds passing by and singing they one song
no break soon there will be no blue berries any more
Squared widows in black
mirroring the next one
Walls in grey
Little tiles
A grid
No humans
Machines working inside in boxes
Trying to climb up a a triangle
Health is falling down
for too many
A big arrow two signs are pointing to a little hole
We can not resist
We feel unwatched
We feel protected we are a group
So one by one is looking through the little whole in the wall
No one is telling the next one what they saw but the smile is telling a lot.
Sometimes I wish to look like a wolf to be respected have that mask.
I look young. Thats alright. That’s me. I’m not masking up my face with make-up to look like someone. For what? For who?
But I’m not cute. There is a reason the first book in my life had the title “von wegen süß”. Cute feels like looking down on me. Petting my heat.
Bikes everywhere. Bikes have priority. It’s pretty flat. There are bicycle highways connecting cities and going through the city. On even on boats you can transport the bike for free. You don’t have to search for a 2x5m parking spot. You can lock it nearly everywhere. A few euro are enough to be part of society move freely like most others. It’s affordable.
If I should describe Amsterdam in one word it’s: “colorful”. Why are those objects there. How was their journey? Is it their graveyard? Tell me your story.
Can you see the pink horse?