“The writer, when he is also an artist, is someone who admits what other don`t dare reveal.” – Elia Kazan
I am a writer. I make stuff up and write it down.
It rained on the day I was born, a baroque red day called Tuesday. We speak February 25, 1992. Location: a small country George W. Bush once called a province of Germany, The Netherlands. The first days of my life I refused to eat. My parents and the nurse had to nourish me with sugar-water. Up to the day I turned seven, I fancied sweets more than anything else. Then the tooth fairy commenced visiting me. She did not like my teeth – more holes than bone. I have not touched any sweet ever since. Yet I make an exception for Dutch liquorice.
Though I obtained a master’s degree in environmental sciences, writing has become my art. Since childhood I have been writing stories. True stories. Or at least stories my friends and family told me. Stories I read in the newspaper. Based on actual issues teasing Earth and Society. Got a hint of by flashes of conversations, eavesdropping private matters. Or stories I just imagined behind people I once met.
(Some of the above is true, some is not.)
All stories on this blog are true and fictional. Please enjoy my humble cavern of story-writing results. Comments and constructive criticisms are welcome 🙂
— About the logo of this website:
It is one of the works of Sarah Kay. I happen to have a (huge) pillow case which has this work printed on it. Rumour has it I got it from my grandmother. Anyhow, it has been in my room as a wall decoration ever since I was a child. To me, it reflects how it all started.
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