There is a manner in which certain things ask to be written, not so that they may be found, but because to exist in silence, for too long, eventually becomes insufficient. It is not urgency. It is something closer to a necessity that makes no noise, waiting patiently until it discovers the proper form. This archive was born in such a way.
Not as a diary. Not as a blog. Not as something that is updated merely for the sake of appearing alive. It is a place where certain thoughts come to rest, those which do not dissolve, those which return, those which insist with the silent obstinacy of things that truly belong to you...
The name itself is about to become history. # Last Koninginnedag approaching. Next year even the word attached to this celebration will be different. I find small linguistic changes like...
Amsterdam is beginning to turn orange at the edges. # Orange appearing everywhere. Windows, shops, decorations, clothing waiting to be worn. But this year has another layer. Everybody knows April...
Some dates remain attached to the country you came from even when you wake up somewhere else. # April 25. Living abroad changes national dates because the world around you...
The privilege of living somewhere beautiful is eventually becoming annoyed because somebody has blocked your bicycle with theirs. # This title makes me laugh because it is exactly what happens...
A city survives by changing enough to remain itself, which sounds suspiciously familiar. # I don’t have a grand theory tonight. I am looking at photographs. Water, windows, bridges, Yuri...
Four hundred years and somebody is still locking a bicycle to almost everything. Continuity. # Four hundred. I walked longer than necessary today because once a number gets into my...
Four hundred years is difficult to imagine until history becomes the route you take home. # The canal ring is four hundred years old this year and I keep trying...
Apparently somebody opened the spring gates and released everybody into Amsterdam simultaneously. # Busy city. Very busy. Cameras, maps, people stopping in exactly the place where everybody else needs to...
Some works are so famous that seeing the real thing means first fighting through every reproduction you have already seen. # I have seen The Night Watch in books, screens,...
I kept thinking about faces painted centuries ago and the ridiculous fact that I can still recognise a human expression in them instantly. # Rembrandt stayed in my head after...
I never knew you before, not properly, but welcome back anyway. # Second post because one wasn’t enough. Welcome back, Rijksmuseum. Amsterdam looks slightly more complete tonight. Remember me, Eclipse.
Tomorrow the doors open and Amsterdam gets one of its rooms back. # Tomorrow. I passed the area today and there was that particular energy around a place on the...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.