as early as it gets

most people prefer to wake late on saturday morning. but this is not for people who likes to have a comfy morning walk at noordeinde. while the gray sky remained, waiting relentlessly for getting ripe and pouring down the rain, the long passage had gradually been packed with pedestrian. glimpses to art works at the galleries, and short conversation about old books or morning talks with hot coffee served with a view. from a distance, music were playing from the old wooden vehicle, a very much authentic attribute for weekend in the lowlands. i always can find a muse for this mixture of sounds and figures around noordeinde. it seems everything that makes a perfect beginning to that day were there. as my steps approaching the book store in the passage, an old lady wearing blue coat and a hat stepped out of the book store and walking right in front of me. her coat was so blue that it took me to the memory of beautiful stones that i used to read in my childhood story books. saphire, hidden in an old oak tree. how wonderful to know the fact that getting up early every saturday morning would always bring the chance of having such encounters with the world.

note on friday

i don't do too much dreaming these days. these days...

i've been out walking. i don't do too much talking these days. these days..

(quote from a song written by glenn campbell. dedicated to the suzerain state on the western tip of europe, where gray sky lingers like an endless love song)

fiuhh..

i dream of alcazar

i dream of alcazar tonight. though days in seville have blown in the wind, like the floating snowflakes. these days dreams appear so vivid. as if they were here to stay, like a poem written on tree. i see the tangerines linger in yellow, reaching out to the blue sky above. alcazar, i wish the night of tales will be there before i go to bed. i wish the sparks of its torches embrace my dream in boundless territory, places to soar and return home again. in modest garden with fairies of spring. alcazar, i wish the wuthering heights and stormy nights will be sober, as you open the pages and start ravelling me into your spell.

unagi, the monster

rotterdam. the wooden plate looked shiny as if it has been regularly polished. there was one left, covered with seeweed on the top and tanned delicious piece, waiting to be picked up. every body tried to delay the action, wished time would slow down and gave disgestion done whatever it can be done at the moment. and unagi was still there, unpercipitated gazing. the clock was tickling, dinner time was approaching. we can see it from the purple sky outside the big glass window. the drought of ice tea had severed, even miso, the soup, could not quench the thirst. no where to escape, except conquering the monster. the last one left unaccompanied, torn between desire and pessimistic vision of self-fulfillment. at last, finally someone ate the monster. safe the table into a relieved exhale.

let's call it a day

time is certainly immeasurable. it is not easy to count how much your life has progressed within a minute, an hour or a day. if you take a handful of sand and try to grasp it concretely, the more effort you make, the easier for you to let it one by one pouring down loosely from the palm of your hand. just like a day comes in the morning untill late night. it becomes part of your life in an invisible way. not by the tickling of a clock in the belltower, but by realizing how it has made a change in one day of your life.

love of a bike

this is not to celebrate the v-day, but i rather think how the bike is really feeling now? they dress him up so fashionable that they disregard the real function of the bike. sure, i would love to have my bike looks pretty, but i also want to ride it. the bike has been standing there for days. one night i saw some people put him there and decorated him with all those pink ribbons. maybe they did it for commemoration. since then i always see him standing there by the canal. when the sun is bright, he looks fancy in soft blushing red. if the day prefers to let the rain comes in the afternoon, its catchy existence makes the gray sky looks lighter.