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You saw it coming, that lucky seven.

How can you ride the sky without the earth, or the earth without the sky? And though the two will never touch, in your heart they are always one.

It only takes a small theater and a few puppets to present us with the whole drama of the world.

I have never seen you standing there before. It struck me that the word meditation was spelled with a capital “M”. And I admired the confidence with which you stood at the corner café. The question mark at the end signalled a call responding to a deeper thirst. And it made me think of my early morning coffee as a form of meditation.

Two steps up into this inner city sanctuary. A guiney fowl spreads its wings and forms the apse of an impromptu open air cathedral. A splash of colour and confidence into the black hole. A shelter from the three eyed lion who threatens to devour those who come too close. And then there is the key of keys, dangling from your paw, luring us closer with the promise of unlocking some unknown desire. I only remember seeing black, overflowing bins gathered in front of you. Our weekly offering?

There is one and the same queue for birth, death, and marriage. And the line is usually long enough to think about this rather unusual triad. Home Affairs, the dreaded leveller, keeps birthing us into a marriage of unlikely partners, bound together only by our desire to kill that beast called bureaucracy.

Some items do not need agressive salesmen. Beds have their back.

I always thought that somebody must be sleeping behind those shutters. The kind of sleep that makes those who pass by sleepless.

As the sun prepares herself to rise, you curl yourself into my boat. Later, you will tell me what you saw, while I was sleeping. The way you mooned yourself into my heart and brought to light my dreams.

Who would have thought that the life of a pop star can be squeezed into a kind of cabinet. But pride and patriotism can get away with such framing and squeezing. Especially when you did not intend to live forever.

To be remembered. Mountains are massive tombstones. They mark a truce, a ceasefire between two continents, between two shifting tectonic plates, constantly pressing against each other, causing havoc among those who now rest in peace and hear the wind dance and howl between the stones and rocks that make up this valley.

Some dare to sell us nature, patterned and bundled, on silk and in vases.

There are places that smile at me like a big, empty canvas: Wind and sun, share with me your experience of being in the world! Make ripples that run deep underneath my skin. Allow me to glide without leaving a trace.

Sometimes we pass each other. I see you, but you don’t see me. Our shores are too far apart, our worlds are too unequal. And the speed at which we travel says so much about who we are.

You find them everywhere, those acid spilling humans. They drain everyone’s energy and keep getting a lift.

You always kept me in suspense and never told me what you had in your little suitcase. It was your secret and you enjoyed keeping it that way.

I saw you leave your house. The door remained wide open. What struck me was the contrast between the impressive and solid mountain range and the humble and weathered structure I call your home. What do I mean when I believe beauty to be redemptive? And who am I to make such a bold statement? After all, I only saw this in passing, waiting for the robot to turn green.

This is no ordinary book. And you are no ordinary woman at the age of 92. I am lucky to catch a glimpse of you.

There are so many nuances to a roaring laughter. Even more so, when you cannot hear the lion's musings, but only see his white, shining teeth, ready to bite you.

You were on your way, following your tiny shadow. It wasn't clear to me if you were leaving or coming home. I noticed some slight dis-orientation, and wasn't sure what to make of it. There was a story behind you and one in front of you. Only the suitcase would lift the mystery. I was waiting for the lock to snap.

Some get stuck in unlikely places. And their smile could be interpreted either way: The excitement of moving up, or the helplessness that comes with going down. We are always in it together.

There is a time for everything.

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