The first day of
2017, it's still early, when I hear some scratching at the kitchen
door. No, for our four-legged friend it doesn’t make a difference
on how long the day before was and just needs to do what it does
every morning at 7, also on the first of January. Sometimes we decide
to crawl back under the blankets together, next to the Lady of the
House, but usually I don’t. After a few hours of laying down, my
back needs some vertical gravitation, my blood pressure can use a
little caffeine and my mind longs for nicotine. The new year won’t
change much in that perspective, the good intentions that I've taken
are secretly stowed in a matchbox, which seems large enough. The fog
over the valley creates a virgin look at the new year, it's quiet and
peaceful. Well, until the world comes in through the laptop, talking
about the first victims of the year in a terrorist attack, Trump's
first tweets, burning ferries, bailiffs who even turn out to collect
on New Year’s day, and the low-slung fireworks powder fumes that
would be dangerous to public health, something which proves that to
house refugees of war "in the region" is not an option. In
other words, today is just an extension of yesterday ....
Bluezy thoughts, short story's, video's, poems, columns and songs of a Dutchman in another language...
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