Nothing ever happens in a life on routine.
Buy our new toothpaste! I hear the radio shout.
News papers fill the kitchen table.
Time is marked in every room.
While the wall mounted rectangle tells where the world is all about.
Nothing happens.
The alarm cruelly disrupts my sleep.
With coffee time honored as sacred.
Lunch prepared in boxes.
Hours between office wall’s seems then not for to fly, but creep.
Nothing ever happens.
Creative sparks lit, in a paradise of gear.
Rejoice the art of cooking opens my mind..
Creating objects connect me with mother earth.
Reliving childhood memories with friends I hold so dear.
No nothing really happens.
Riding trough the meadows enjoying every breath.
Witness a cow give birth, catching a young deer on the run.
In search to complete the feathers of the chief.
Chased by vampiers, live in joy and laugh in the face of death.
Sure nothing is going to happen.
Building floats to roam the streets in winter colds.
Prepare gardens to fruit in warmth.
Come winter, the beautiful deciduous forest becomes barren and dull, while nothing ever happens.
–
Indianenkamp – The curse of the chief
Saint Anna festivities
Carnalval