At times, I get to look music in the face and I can’t help to either cry or blush a little every time I do.

Here’s to the death of a disposable heart.

Music itself has taught me never to underestimate a mistake, for, in the midst of all, it’s often in that mistake where the realm of the unexpected creation is hidden.

i am an exile in my own life.

it’s miraculous how the shallow can injure in such a profound way.

You know that feeling of relief as soon as you wake up from a bad dream? That is what I feel as soon as I fall asleep.

> it’s raining.< what is?

I love it when there’s nothingLeft to see but tiny spots of what’s still lightStories piercing the night.

When I am awake, I sleep, but when I dream I come to life.

My pleasure is only superficial: in oily droplets it lies on my skin without being absorbed.

For the minority, what else is democracy than dictatorship?

After each book the world changes in my eyes, i have become more suspicious and eager at the same time.

To hide away from the world whose loveless heart has gone astrayand its inhabitants what could be a safer place than my imagination?

and now i am back in the grey world where it tastes like plastic, the monotony is buzzing through my jaws and the boredom is pulling my hair.

there is no universal rule for beauty. If we must speak of rules in this respect, we mustn’t be surprised to find as many rules as there are people in this world!

I cover the floor with a thin layer of imagination so that i’ll always land softly.

There’s always books. And the wind through trees.

What could ever tempt me to share my pain? Why willingly increase it by coming close to another human being, inevitable causing severe damage with the sharp edges of my broken heart?

Such dreams provide this temporary illusion of a life that has meaning.

That throbbing thing in my chest can hardly be called a heart. It has been wrung out and deformed into something merely functional. Nothing can revive it.

Distant throbs at armslength.

onze aarde hangt niet voor niets scheef. Het is een ironische onderstreping van al het zijn op haar bodem. –it’s for a reason our earth is slanting. It’s an ironical emphasis of all being on...

Temporary? Time is temporary.–Tijdelijk? Tijd is tijdelijk.

Trust isn’t something you can just one day decide to have. Trust cannot be fabricated out of thin air, no matter how one’s will is set to it. Trust has to be earned. And there’s...

you’re ignoring me so loud that it’s deafening. This silence is so deep that it’s echoing.

te midden vankleurenverwrongen doch schijnbaarleeftijdloosbevind ik mijschouder aan schoudermet de tijdhaar schaterlachweerkaatst tegen de murenvan het eindelozeverstart de wijzersvoor een ogenblikongemerktverbleektwat eens waszo blijktkleurechtheideen illusie.

I stretched to reach the words, but my hands were too small to carry them home.

… listening to the silence together. If there’s any. I truly believe not so. I have never heard a silence. Have you? The world is filled with unspoken words. And that’s something different isn’t it.

Maar ik creëer niet, ik onderga.–but I do not create, I undergo.

To think that two bodies, crooked by life into question marks, when encountering one another did not form a heart.. To do that, all we needed was to look each other in the eye. But...