Amsterdam

Where the knitwork of thick cloud was thinning ever so slightly, I could see the dark gradients of the North sea, seasonably desaturated. The only object interrupting the monotonous stretch was a solitary phantom barge, enveloped in haze, like a distant chimera. The strong gusts carried us forth, above windmills, neat patches of green and a flawless infrastructure of Lego-like roads, canals and bridges. More water, shiny white industrial builds, geometrically aligned gabled rooftops. Well, hello Amsterdam. It's good to see you again.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The tailor

Once upon a time, there was a tailor called Saeed. In his tiny studio he was making outlandish garments for future brides. Day in, day out, the tailor was singer-sewing, humming the sweet tones of Mon Amie la Rose and Soleil D'Egypte . His eyes would glisten with glee every time his long fine fingers added a touch of lace to a delicate design. One day, a fairy  knocked on the door of his tiny studio. This was not entirely uncalled for. Fairies had often visited the tailor in his dreams but this was the first one to appear in the flesh. The fairy was a spitting image of Saeed and she was wearing one of his bridal dresses. For the first time Saeed could see how his work complemented him. "You a just a man in a dress", Saeed couldn't help saying. "Why have you disguised yourself like this?" "It's an acquired habit.", the fairy answered calmly. "Being eccentric is all about expressing yourself through acquired tastes and habits." T...
Read more

Life on Langkawi

Let me tell you about Langkawi. I am lying on a chaise longue amidst a patch of radiant green growth and the gentle morning breeze is tickling my bare feet and forearms. Running water, buzzing insects and the velvety timbre of birds' vocals form a soft blanket of sounds, the morning's background music. It feels like I have never not been on Langkawi. Night after night, in my bed in London, I would repeat the magically sounding word like a mantra trying to fight insomnia and visualise the colours, shapes and fragrances behind the otherworldly name. Lang-ka-wi, lang-ka-wi, lang-ka-wi... Now that I am here, I spend my time admiring marvellous fruits or watching blackbirds drinking from the pool, their reflections quivering in the turquoise water. After a swim in the sea, I stand still against the wind, eyes semi-closed, watching semi-blurred water cones forming at my pulsing fingertips. I pay attention to my hands and my feet. I have managed to catalogue all the teeth in my mou...
Read more

I saved Jesus and then she saved me

“Wake up! Are you still dreaming?”  Over the last six months, I have been telling one story consistently and fervently - the story of my friendship with Jesus…the fox. Storytelling is my creative lifeblood. It brings me in this wonderful state of excited urgency where I can explore and dream. Some stories take epic effort to write. Others write themselves or have always been written. Such is the story of me and Jesus - the boy and his fox.  Ever since the four-legged fairy walked towards me on Good Friday, with that heart-wrenching air of anxious bravery, hungry, ailing and pleading for kindness, I knew that this was big. It was as if she had chosen me to tell the world about her in what was going to become my best story. Our best story. “God…you are obsessed with this fox.” You think? Well, erm…yes, I am obsessed. When have I not been obsessed with the matters that move me? What should I be doing instead? Skimming the surface? Dipping in and out? Sounds like a bloody waste of...
Read more