perspicacity

i have always been very much a "carpe diem" and "do unto others" person: two shiningly golden rules, to my way of thinking; but when i glance to the right of my monitor at work, i see, among my loved ones, two of the three other life-mottos that inspire, and reinforce me.
the first speaks for itself: "practise random kindness and senseless acts of beauty": one compelling sentence with the exquisite exuberance of what life should, and can, be.
the second - on the button - is loesje's "geniet nooit met mate" which translates, loosely, into: "never enjoy in moderation". these four words, in postcard form, identified my locker in the department store where i worked until a couple of years ago, and they've accompanied me onward. in the last few months, with things threatening to push me off track, they have reminded me to keep myself open to the pleasures there are despite.
the third? the third is scrolled in neon across the roof of a tall building in alkmaar. i haven't figured out exactly how to interpret it best, but when i do, i will take my tripod and my camera into the darkness and share it with you.

hopeless fancy feign'd

she has never craved candy's simple satisfaction.
but she laments that other distant sweetness, which sustained her, and then inexplicably stopped.

about-face

"there you go," she chided, "GRIMACING again."
"grimacing? i don't GRIMACE. i don't even know HOW to grimace", he replied.
and grimaced.

trite (and true)

leaves. sunsets.
i know. i know.
but beauty like this simply shouts to be shared.

necessity is the mother

roommate A: "hey, man! we're outta tape!"
roommate B: "we got nails, yo. the game's starting!"
roommate A: "the paper's ripping! wait. oh, man. i am SO smart."
roommate B: "yeah right. bring the opener, will ya?"
roommate B: "and the peanuts."

the heart of this

"and then leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter.."
- leonard cohen

she misses him.
she misses him immensely.
but should he stride her way at this very moment, golden and radiant, she would duck into a doorway, dodging his indifference, and, hidden, allow him to pass her by.

and the sky is grey

i promise:
just this ONE more.
because the bench is such a beautiful blue.

puffed and powdered

tim horton's was a mainstay of my college days, but i had to kick THAT habit very quickly when i settled in holland.
nothing, but nothing, is open 24 hours a day here. no-one in this country seems to need cafeine and baked goods (or pizza or chinese food) at 4 a.m. - unbelievable, but true.
our coffee, though, is undeniably delicious, and, instead of donuts, we have the seasonal sustitute: oliebollen - golden, deep-fried-on-the-spot globes of light dough, plain or with currants, or ginger, or filled with custard, popped into a paper bag, and dusted with lots of icing sugar.
they are sinfully tasty, and very very fattening. i resist them whenever possible. but i do relent at new years, when the queues at the stalls are rows deep, them being traditional festive fare and all.
who am i to defy tradition?
and whatever are holidays for if not for nudging guilt aside, and simply enjoying?

hoping for a breeze

it was a day of visible shins in amsterdam: more tartan than orange, and kilts as far as the eye could see.
now, who do you suppose is playing soccer against holland tomorrow?

*wish renée a safe trip: she's off to prague tomorrow..

*and over at lalaland: public numbers, and another view of an old clock... i am very pleased.

under glass

"there are always flowers for those who want to see them."
henri matisse

i don't suppose matisse was talking about garden centres, exactly - well: i KNOW he wasn't - but they are a welcome diversion when, as sam so succinctly put it, our palette has reverted to greyscale for the rest of the season.
living colour as a stopgap: i absorb, aisle after aisle, a little brightness to bridge the winter's dark.

*many of the submissions for the gimcracker blogiversary invitation have been posted. it was a definite challenge: my own photos tell me their own particular stories, sometimes even as i activate the shutter, but finding words that can do justice, as i have said, to someone else's artistry is another thing altogether. take a look. they are lovely.