Holland, Amsterdam.19 June 2010.
Sometimes I wake up early in the morning, the tiny feet of Hannes, my neighbor's tow year old son banging away on the floor overhead but not bothering me much, feeling like my whole life has been quite literally blown to smithereens, I feel like I want to cry, maybe start the new day with a very cold from the frigde alcoholic pint of cheap Albert Heyn brew....though most of all I want to fall back to sleep, to a deep sort of comatose sleep that is devoid of nightmares, devoid of all the crazy things that have happened to me in my life...
Back to the times when I was in my teenage years touring Europe on fake homemade Interrail passes, sometimes months and months on end, forging new passes in cheap Hotel rooms in Istanbul or Casablanca, sharing train compartments of dirty international trains with illegal immigrants willing to tell me their big hopes of building up a brand new life in the fabled rich West...
My crazy Farang mind is full with memories of the past, as always these last few months, cycling to the Anne Frank House through a festive Amsterdam, people celebrating the 1 - 0 victory over Japan in far-away Zuid Afrika, giving the Dutch a real opportunity to push on to the next fase in the World Soccer Championship...hoping the wind will clean my gray brain mass, hoping to sell some games, make more dough for my next trip to the East, maybe a nice tourist lady willing to pose for yet another portrait in my sketchbook...
Loony-tunes f*ckers half drunk on Heineken and blowing like mad on orange-colored Vuvuzelas disturb my peace while I dedicately work on my games, no customers but nutcases with too much booze down their Dutch throats celebrating the Dutch soccer win...but eventually a blond tall lady with a full sun-burned face wants to know about my games, willing to pose but on a tight budget that allows no five Euro games..Fair enough, I got my sketch but Pas d'Argent...
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