Amsterdam

 I was greeted by our prime minister (the previous one, now) on a giant television outside the airport

 I didn't see much of the city, only from afar, but I did see the old shipyard. got to know it a lot, walking up and down

 some rehearsing, a little music, telling, meeting people

 and a flag..Greece was on my mind a lot, since we are being turned inside out by political powergames

 a greek question mark in one of our singing bowls

 colours on walls. the grey sky seems relentless, just as I suppose our sun is to people coming from grey skied countries

 language learning outside the mens rest room. looks like broken english..I know its the other way round. And, Martine, do women need telling?

 bench floor patterns during nightime

swans in couples
saw a raven
and fat self satisfied seagulls
ducks, and black ones that I learnt were called coots


I didn't spend much time in Amsterdam, but I saw people, met some I'm glad to have met, hung out with members of the pack, told and listened to stories
a good trip
maybe another time I will see the city, and, who knows, a blogging friend or two....

Back, sort of

I'm back in a way..

The tent was pitched, in the middle of a huge "square" in the city of Kerkyra on the island of corfu

I haven'y had time since Thursday to upload the fotos

There were moments of bliss, the tent full of people listening, entranced, to stories

There were moments of exhaustion ..driving the van by a river in the mountains..8 hrs drive..arriving to find there was no provision for electricity(how else would the drill work? or would we be hammering into tarmac, 45 holes?) and then the police hadn't been notified so we had to stop until that got sorted out..

and then having to be there, watching, guarding, telling, cleaning rugs and pillows for 16 out of 24 hours

but it was all ok in the end,

more than ok

magic

yes, I believe in magic

moments:

storks clacking away in their treetops at dawn

a tiny bird stealing wool from a flokati rug to line its nest

the lizard that stood guard next to me for hours looking at the tent from its stone, there in the park

the children talking to the genie of the lamp, they saw it, they really did

the swallows swooping and crying to each other every morning and evening

the people from morocco and afganistan and albania who gathered in and around the tent to tell me their stories after everyone had left

Thodoris and Alekos who catered for an "official" event in the tent who fed anyone who asked for food after the mayor and the ambassadors had had their fill of couscous and hummus

the way the young men looked at the meat before making the courage to ask for some

oh the stories I heard...

in the rain

little things and big things sometimes the littlest are the biggest

still raining

the spaced concept in decoration

grey and cold

i'm off for a few days to a desert land

on a whim of my mothers

telemaco's heart cloth

a treasure, all by himself

you can see the intent

a border

when does repetition stop being repetition and turns into something else?

sorry about the quality of the fotos, it has been raining for days

and it is quite dark..

feb 15

hey, Catherine

heart hug

thank you jude