I hear a lot. And I cut my own hair, this way I do not have to look in the mirror for at least an hour. When I was little my father brought me to his hairdresser, near the harbor, I can’t remember that I told him I wanted it as short as possible. I liked it, I recognised myself as myself. That was great and there was sand on the floor, maybe because it was near the harbor. Let us forget about the mosquito and focus on the bee with only one million brain cells. Bees are smart, have their own personality, recognize flowers and human faces. They are giving dancing signals to each other about a location, the longer the dance the better, and full with nectar. I decided not to care about clothes anymore.
This weekend we are in Leuven to visit old old friend. First thing we did together was going to the thrift shop. I bought two Bellerose shirts, one Timberland shirt, one Vaude shirt, one pair of Carhartt jeans, one pair of woolen Belgian army trousers and one unidentified soft yellow vest. My friend is music because in music the other one is knowledged. I am reading ‘Thuis in muziek’, a practiced in humanity, written by Alicja Gescinska. She is a philosopher living in Belgium. My friend is caved in by records, cd’s, speakers and books. While cooking spicy meals he listens to a French jazz radio station. I really should write more, a sentence every day. I should paint every every time I feel like it. It’s like eating and drinking. Stop. I need to go home. Very very very. And go carry a little notebook all the time. In a pocket near the body. To give myself dancing signals.
