Aug 9 2005
Blue
Another art project near my temporary house. These houses are bound to be demolished but in the meantime turned into a work of art.
Yves Klein would have liked it, even though the colour isn’t exactly right.
Monthly Archives: August 2005
Aug 8 2005
Poetry
I’m staying in the house of Helmi and Tonio, taking care of their plants and their two cats. It’s very close to the street were I lived before I moved to Montréal. When I walk to it I notice this poem, written on the sidewalk.
Graaf Florisstraat
Mijn Surinaamse buurvrouw staat
nors en stom gevangen
in de deuropening;
haar Spanjaard spuit
het heimwee van de stoep,
zijn slippers geven
zuigende afscheidszoenen.
De boog van machtige platanen
is het mooist
vanaf de Heemraadsingel.
Alleen vanaf die kant fiets ik
het blikveld in
van een verdwaasde Chinees
die zijn hand opsteekt
en in mij duidelijk een mens herkent.
Vaarwel noch groet,
een pal die op- en neergaat.
Wie zo rijdt aanvaardt
zijn terugreis in de tijd,
de dag raakt om,
hier kom ik thuis.
gedicht: Maret van Hagen
(Translation:
Earl Floris Street
My Surinamese neighbour stands
surlily and stupidly caught
in the door opening;
its Spaniard spouts
the homesickness of the sidewalk,
his slippers give
sucking goodbye-kisses.
The arc of powerful plane trees
is at its most beautiful
as seen from the Heemraadsingel.
Only from that side I cycle
into the view of a dazed Chinese
that puts up its hand
and recognises in me clearly a human.
Good-byes nor greetings,
a stop which goes up and descends.
He who drives this way accepts
its return trip in the time,
the day goes by,
here I come home.
Poem: Maret van Hagen)
Aug 7 2005
Hammock
In my friend sterre’s community garden I spend 1 minute in the hammock before a big rain storm forces us inside her glorified shed. We have a lovely lunch.
Why the laptop? Because it’s geeky.
Aug 3 2005
Nijmegen
From Rotterdam to Nijmegen again in a longish (to Dutch standards) 2 hour train journey because I have to take another route due to railroad maintenance.
Aug 1 2005
Banana
I was walking on the street wearing one of my MonkeyFilter T-shirts and with a hand of bananas in my hand, unwrapped. A little black girl, 6 years old, approached me and, pointing at my T-shirt, said: “You have a banana on your T-shirt and bananas in your hand.” I smiled.
And then she asked me if she could have one, and of course she could.
Aug 10 2005
Castor
Castor, one of the cats I cat-sit, is very beautiful and funny. He sometimes throws himself off the stairs and rolls down, stair by stair.
C’est un vrai catscadeur.
[Ai, multi-lingual punning. Alison warned me for that.]
I’m more of a dog-person myself, but I could easily put this cat in my suitcase and take it home with me. But I won’t because I’m sure Helmi and Tonio wouldn’t like it. And Poupoune would proably eat him alive.
By mare • english •