Sunday coffee

Westerpark

The Fate

body

My body doesn't belong to me
only a distant bark of a dog
connects us
clothed with smiles
he goes to meet people
rolls his lifes
on their eyelashes
so many trustful eyes
wriggle under his feet

he gathers in his footsteps
and thoughtfully
he
slowly
comes
home

Morning

lonely
with concrete birds all over
table
with benches in its armpits
waits
for a visit of
a ladybird
on a big white surface she
dances
and whispers morning stories
for him


(p.s. it was a non-writing days...)

fish and the garden

there was a winter some time ago..

and now it's spring

here is my home


eating fish :)

spring garden

daily food