Yesterday we set our clocks back one hour, and almost overnight it was like someone switched the lights off. We are back in the dungeon, and it is pretty much as bad as I remembered it. Deprived of daylight and sun, my energy slows down and everything becomes harder. Like blogging. Sometimes I think I am all out of words and things to say, and then one of you leave a sweet comment or a hello, and everything is worth it again. I thought you should know that. That it makes a difference.
It reminds me that I am not just standing in an empty room talking to myself. It makes me feel not alone. Even that crazy anti-gay and lesbian German lady (who shall remain un-googlable on this blog), writing me every few months suggesting I delete my blog, encourages me to go on. In her own twisted way. I hope that kills her, haha. Yeah, I am not a fan of turning the other cheek. Unless you count the lower ones.
Anyway, as you can probably tell from my cryptic week in pictures, I just returned from Amsterdam, and as tradition prescribes I have a truckload of street art pictures to share. This time I found myself gravitating towards the more aggressive ones. Not necessarily pretty or artistic, but the ones with a message. This one is my favorite:
Pussy vs. Pussy Riot.
And on the same building:
Not gay as in happy, but queer as in fuck you.
Let that be a lesson crazy anti-gay and lesbian German lady, every time you rear your ugly head, there will be something on the blog to show support for the basic human rights of the lesbian and gay.
Enjoy the censorship's leftovers. (Zien en zwijgen / See and speak)
A creepy reminder of this infographic, revealing that all the best known brands in the world are owned by just ten multinational companies. I find the thought suffocating.
Als wonen een luxe is, is kraken een recht / As living is a luxury, squatting is a right (?)
Amsterdam has the same problem as we got here: lots of empty buildings in the city centre reserved for businesses, and at the same time lots of homeless students and citizens. The Dutch used to have what I consider a healty system, that allowed for squatting if the owner of the building kept it unoccupied for a longer period of time. That is no longer the case. A change for the worse, in my book. And by any definition a war on the poor.
On to less depressing images:
The everpresent butts. What is it with smokers?
Sweet cardboard flamingo, with a drooping head. I badly wanted to bring it home and nurse it back to health, but I left it in the wild. Same cannot be said for the outdoor version of Pussy vs. Pussy Riot. After all, I am only human.