–Desperate to catch a break, the only break I seem to catch is that which breaks me in two. — I woke up to dreams of Mt. Everest. In my nocturnal delusion Dexter had, to my surprise, decided that I…
India: A Firsttimer’s Impression
It stinks. And not in some metaphorical “it is a bad place” but in the most brutal of literal senses. It smells really bad. Absolutely everywhere. Spice bowls and burning incense are randomly placed at every corner intended to hide…
A Song of Rain and Fire
Visiting Varanasi, the Hindu city of Death I never feared death much. Death being either the end as the complete obliteration of the senses, or the beginning in the sense of a reaching a new world, a paradise through the mercy of a divine,…
A few shoe cartons of a lifetime’s worth
Mercilessly tucked in between the red backs of my Tin Tin comics, the binders filled with my old drawings and the random little titbits I gathered throughout life, are a few plain-looking shoe cartons. It was a long time since…
Sand
Today I woke up to vivid dreams building heavily from passed experiences. Dreams that never happened in real life but that was close enough to reality for me to not question their validity neither in my sleep nor as I…
The Wifi Must Die…
… or how Mr Fluffball went to battle against the monster squares Mr Fluffball’s family consisted of six people. Mama Anne, Papa John, teenage daughter Becky and the twin little brothers Thomas and Jake, and himself Mr Fluffball, the family’s…
An Unbelievable Headache
How mother nature deals with the environmental abuse It was a disaster of catastrophic proportions. In fact, it was such a big deal that no one really knew what the hell they could possibly do about it. Or even if…
The invasion of the mega slugs
Or the scenario in which Brexit turned out to be kind of a clever move They roughly resemble Spanish garden slugs. Only, the smallest ones have the height of a five-story building and the length of a medium-sized city block.…
Escapism or a lack of purpose
I haven’t been writing much lately. Inspiration left me long ago to go fuck someone else into mediocre poetry or some bullshit paragraphs of gibberish no-one reads. In her place, the brain-dead nothingness of a purposeless life has made herself ever-present…
I Will Have to Call You Back
“Jackson residence,” Annabell answered with a cheerful tone as she picked up the seashell resting on the counter. “The lady of the house speaking.” Standing in the light from one of the windows Annabell looked every bit as beautiful as…