creative

He is leaving me. He is walking away from me. He is becoming a memory day after day. He is just becoming a stranger now. ...

I don’t want to do what I need to do, I cannot do what I want to do, I am stuck. ...

I need to go. I cannot stay here any longer. ...

A woman, With her little baby, little in any age, Her dear little, tinny baby, A baby, a child, a piece of her, Dies. ...

For all I have done, For all I have said, For all I have behaved, I am sorry. ...

Pieces of glasses, on the floor. In smallest pieces, still visible to the eye, scattered all around. It is the pieces of glasses watching itself. The air can not help the pieces come together and make any sense of it. They stay there causing bleeding until the day water arrives and washes it all away. ...

A search continues, without me. I am not part of the search. I cannot stop it, I cannot help it. ...

I am too small in this world. I am too helpless in this world. I am an invisible point in this universe. I am just a dust in this air. Who am I? ...

I am walking out of the apartment. Again. Temporarily. I walked out of many other apartments. Permanently. Forever. I call this current one home. In the same way that I used to call other ones. They were home to other people as well. What made this one my home, my place, my safe place? What would happen if I didn’t go back home this time? What would happen if I would never find a home again, my home again? Have I ever found a home even, my home even? ...

I am going to Germany from Belgium, using a German brand car on German speed-limitless roads. I am going from my known safe apartment to my unknown scary nature. I am carrying my excitement for unknown and my fear of unknown, in the same luggage. I left my boring known home in the trash bin, not recycled. My mind is still when I am fastest. ...