A final punishment to the assassin

Amsterdam, 17 nov. 2014.

From the air Amsterdam looked like giant grey and pinkish colored snowflake, good old Mokum lying half embedded between cold and rainy clouds, nothing special this time of year but horrible in my imagination after a full month in tropical Thailand, barely endurable after a full four weeks of Suk Sabai treatment by an Asian love affair, madly mouth watering Thai food making me go completely insane in the famous Farang tummy, particularly gratifyingly friendly local people whose enthusiasm for life and fun is infectiously addictive...

I felt deplorably mad with sadness looking down on my home town of choice, sensors, tubes, micropumps and all that other crazy biocircuitry inside my sunburned head making my imaginary impressions of Amsterdam looking battered, bruised and bloody, cold to the touch, a bit like after a bout with Mohamed's Ali's iron fists in his better days...if Amsterdam had a human face it would be with puffed-up eyes and ears, a re-broken nose, blood trickling down split lips, tears diluting the blood covering the major part of unhealthy looking cheeks...

I feel like an sadistic psychopath with a limited imagination and deplorable writing skills but truth be told it was how I felt barely a week ago coming back home to my dusty chaotic life in this capital of the Low Countries, decreed back in the miserable cold of another Dutch winter, a final punishment to the assassin of my own existence, savagely tortured for earlier sins in a former life