Coming home after a 10 hour working day I find my fridge looking like this: But with the help of some whole wheat spaghetti and soya mince I have in the cupboards, I’m able to start making a pasta veggie bolognese. I let the soya mince soak up some water and spices while I chop the tomatoes and let them boil for a while in a little bit of water and what’s left of a jar of Arabbiata sauce. I fry the onion and some garlic, add the soya mince to the pan, then add the tomato sauce, stir and let it brew until the pasta is ready. I add a few sun dried tomatoes, some Parmesan and black pepper on top; not bad actually.
Sorry, Mr. Fiat Driver, I just had to.
Throw a stone watch how it breaks the surface tension and disappears. Watch the oscillating image struggling to resettle itself into something new. Or you can wait for a wind to do the job.
On a windy island grows a forest where moss warriors march at night, where trees see and listen; whisper to the passing traveler. Here earthy spiders weave their silky webs. Here fairy tales are born.
Why are the trees in bloom? What’s the hurry, tulips, to push up through the ground? You should be naked and sleeping.
These pictures were taken in France in 2007. I found an abandoned bird house in Normandy and the silent beauty of it made an unforgettable impression on me. A few days later mechanical birds filled the Paris sky.
I have another cup, I have a knife to kill time and color on my finger tips. And of course, music.