Notice
I cannot get used to seeing this in a civilized country.

I cannot get used to seeing this in a civilized country.

Rijssenhout. The residents of the houses on Aalsmeerderdijk sit in their front yards with faces as if they are doing punishment duties. Then again, they look out on capital villas on the other side.
The ferry across is free; the pay machine is out of order.
Pumping and damming work on the Uiterweg. Water must have been on the road here for weeks this spring.



On a bench sits a man in a neon-colored suit and black boots. His hair is long, blond, and blow-dried. A traffic controller who has put on his work clothes?
People wear coats again. Summer coats, but the coats are out again, shifting the seasons.
Seagulls and crows scream from the rooftops. The sound reminds me of the raven in Japan.
A man in a t-shirt too tight around his waist, accentuating hefty love handles.
Beautiful artwork from chip design and a vice nerdy story about this Navajo weaving from Marilou Schultz.


I am rereading Raymond Carver’s short stories. Nothing happens in these stories, nothing in terms of real-life events—suggestions of events only. A man and a woman are lying in bed. Nothing happens. Only the woman can not sleep. We follow her restlessness. A postman welcomes a new family in town. He observes them while they settle and leave town again.
There is no twist at the end of the stories—just a little wrinkle, at best.