Parkpop- Kim Wilde!

It was drizzling, and the sky was drearily gray. I wrapped myself in a warm sweater and jacket, and even wondered whether I should take my scarf with me. It's June.

Was already wet from cycling all the way across town to Zuiderpark, where Parkpop ( supposedly the biggest free pop-music concert in Europe) took place. I could already hear the booming music as I parked my bike, and it got louder as I got closer to the muddy field where it all took place. It had been raining the whole day, and the terrain was almost deserted, it seemed. Just here and there, people sheltering under trees, wearing make-shift garbage bags as rain coats, and wielding all sorts of colourful umbrellas in the air.

The stage was deserted, and I disappointed. I was there, alone, having once again been abandoned by certain people who said they would come... Was it all finished? I kicked the empty plastic cups that lay everywhere in the over-trampled and muddy grass...

And suddenly, the stage lit up, and behind a wall of fake fog came the band and the star I had braved the cold and rain to see. There she was, with her recognisable crazy blonde curls, dressed in black. A slight, half-hearted applause from the sleepy crowd below, as the rain continued to fall.

Kim Wilde had a series of hits in the eighties, and recently, like many artists who seemed to have disappeared, made a come-back. Watching her sing and jump up and down, it's hard to believe she's already 47 years old! Still bursting with energy, her voice moved as well as excited the crowd in no time, as she sang her old hits in between the more recent hits that you still occassionally hear on the radio. The crowd jumped up and down, and at times clapped along. What really attracts me is that many of the songs and music are written by herself, and have lyrics that have meaning-- which is quite rare nowdays.

But in almost no time at all, the field started to fill with people from nowhere, as the night passed with songs like “Kids in America”, “Together we belong”, “Cambodia”, “Perfect girl”, “You keep me hanging on”, “Never trust a stranger”, “View from a bridge”, “You came” (the video clip of which is apparently censored in certain countries because it’s too ‘provocative’...), as well as the remake hit originally by German female popstar Nena “Anyplace, anywhere, anytime”:

Im Sturz durch Raum und Zeit, richtung Unentlichkeit
Fliegen Motten in das Licht, genau wie du und ich'
Wrap your fingers 'round my neck.
You don't speak my dialect,
But our images reflect.
Drawn together by the flame,
We are just the same:
Embrace the wind and fall into another time & space.

Gib mir die Hand - ich bau dir ein Schloss aus Sand
Irgendwie, irgendwo, irgendwann'
If we belong to each other,
We belong anyplace, anywhere, anytime.

Im Sturtz durch Zeit und Raum, er wacht aus einem Traum'
Nur ein kurzer Augenblick, dann kehrt die Nacht zurueck.
Bits and pieces from your storm
Rain upon me as they fall;
Melt into my skin and I feel warm.
Sweep upon me like a wave.
We are young and brave:
Embrace the wind and float into another time & space.

Gib mir die Hand - ich bau dir ein Schloss aus Sand
Irgendwie, irgendwo, irgendwann'
If we belong to each other,
We belong anyplace, anywhere, anytime.

Drawn together by the flame,
We are just the same:
Embrace the wind and fall into another time & space.

If we belong to each other,
We belong anyplace, anywhere, anytime.
I'm going to any world you're coming from.
Anyplace, anywhere, anytime.
Gib mir die Hand - ich bau dir ein Schloss aus Sand
Irgendwie, irgendwo, irgendwann'
I'm going to any world you're coming from.
Anyplace, anywhere, anytime

And she did a great rendition of Depeche Mode’s great classic “Enjoy the silence”:

“Words like violence
Break the silence
Come crashing in
Into my little world
Painful to me
Pierce right through me
Cant you understand
Oh my little girl

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm

Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial
Pleasures remain
So does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm”

Beautiful!

Shock...

My skin crawled and my heart sunk when I heard the news. This should happen to no one! No one! I thought to myself.

"... she was taking the train when it happened. On the train between Schiphol (airport) and Amsterdam. She was in a carriage with no one else, but this one other guy..."

Shudder... disgust...

"...the guy was sitting opposite her. She was just reading a book or something, and she looked up, and saw the guy jerking off. She stood up to walk away, and he followed her..."

Shock... horror...

"... he pinned her into a corner, and forced her into the toilet. And raped her."

I looked away, imagining what horrible torture the girl must have underwent, and what a horrible person that guy is to do such a horrible thing to another human being. I don't know this girl, but I felt for her, and tried to imagine what pain and traumas she had to endure... My friend who told me this was almost shaking after recounting the story.

We were silent for a few moments after that, unsure how to change the subject, unsure whether to change the subject that had changed the atmosphere of a friendly get-together so dramatically.

Rape... such a strong word, such a dirty word. It's not so much the act itself, but the significance of what it does to another human being, and the meaning behind it that makes it so traumatic. It's being out of control of your body and mind, being subdued to such indescribable physical and emotional trauma, and being violated against your will by someone you don't even know... Believe me, it hurts... perhaps the worse thing that another person can do to another...

The girl is recovering now, and awaiting pregnancy and STD (sexually transmitted diseases) test results. The police are now on the case.

But countless many are not so lucky, as countless many live and hide in shame, afraid to tell, afraid that when other people know their ordeals, they will be stigmatised for life.

May they find the strength to live on, and to deal with the pain... May they find the abilitiy to heal, and be able to walk out of the shadows...

Porn

*Disclaimer: By reading I confirm that I am 18 years of age or over, or have reached the legal age of majority in the country or territory I am currently located.


Friday night, flicking through the TV for something good to watch.
Suddenly, naked people engaged in 'fast moving physical action' caught my attention. The quality of the film was poor, something probably shot in the eighties, but it's porn nonetheless.

"Porn? At 10pm? Why... they're showing it earlier and earlier nowadays!" I thought to myself. Only then did I realise it was the Comedy Channel. More surprising... can porn be funny?

And it was. I sat there laughing for the whole half an hour. Porn has a reputation for being badly dubbed (so I heard), for some of the dialogue can be so utterly corny and tasteless, and it seems like everything said or done is gearing up for the next shag.

It was a show called "Badly Dubbed Porn", which

"takes excerpts from some of the adult industry's more ropey films and redubs the dialogue to liven things up a bit".

So I was had the privilege of watching selected scenes from "The World's Biggest Asshole"... about this guy who had a problem with his arse, which for some reason seemed to get bigger and bigger. But that didn't stop him getting laid wherever he went... either to the doctors at the hospital, or to court, or to the trailer park (for some reason). The dubbing was hilariously witty, poking fun at the actors and the cheesy plot, and the whole ridiculousness of typical low-budget porn-flicks that have no story and are so poorly acted, even down to the fake screaming and organisms (...again, or so I heard). Ah, too much...


A must-see for people who stay home on Friday nights...
(Fridays at 22.25 and 00.45 on Comedy Central, in Dutch!)

Horoscope today

An acquaintance keeps popping into your life, but you haven't ventured into real friend territory yet. Take time to get to know them on a deeper level.

I wonder who this "acquaintance" is...

Afternoon nightmare

Just had one of the most terrifying nightmares ever...

I'm just lying in bed, seeing myself sleeping. I hear noises and movements in the house, and I get up to move around. I see myself move, my hands and feets, but the next moment I'm 'thrown back' into bed, and still lying there like I haven't moved at all. I hear more noises and voices in the house. I roll over and try to step out of bed, only to be 'thrown back' into bed again, back into my sleeping position.

I try to move my arms and legs, and have the feeling I have control over them one moment. But the very next moment, I'm back in that position in bed where I'm just lying there and sleeping. I try to get out of bed again, and actually see people moving around through the opening of the door. I try to say something, and try to move toward the door, but then I'm thrown back into bed again, immobilised. It's very confusing and frustrating.

I try many more times, each time moving my head, my arms and feet. But I never can make it out of my room. And very suddenly I get 'thrown back' into bed again, to be back in the same position and to be immobilised like an invalid unable to control his body. But at the same time, I can hear the radio playing in the background, hear the voice of the newsbroadcaster go on and on about the latest news and stock market prices and the weather.

I feel so trapped, not being able to control my body, and increasingly frustrated by being 'thrown back' into bed. I feel like I am losing my ability to move, and feel like I may be like this forever. I ask myself if this is what death is like... And next moment I burst into (tears in my dream)...

...only to wake up in the next moment in reality, and realise it was all a dream. A terrible dream. The radio was on, and the newsbroadcaster kept on rambling on about the Palestine, about a dad who had been shot outside his son's primary school this morning... I moved my hand and arm, and they moved the way I wanted wanted it to.

I closed my eyes a bit, trying to regain myself and my thoughts. It was as if in my dream, there were two levels of existences-- one minor existence in which I am sleeping, and another in which I can move around a little, but then quickly return back to that main sleeping existence. But at the same time, the sound of the radio and newsbroadcaster (which represented the third existence of 'real reality' entered these two existences.

I lay in bed, sighing and panting, as if I had another 'out of body' experience. It was such a relief to see my own hand in front of my eyes, and to realise I had regained consciousness again, and to realise that it was all just a dream. A terrible dream.

Outside it poured with rain.

Something weird

I went to work this morning, having had not such a good night's sleep. Woke up a abit moody, and not at all looking forward to the day. Not even after a shower.

When I got to the office, it got a bit better, and I did a few good hours of more website building, until after 1pm or so, and decided it was time for lunch and a walk. So took a break and went outside for fresh air, thinking I'd get back into the office and start to finally work on my thesis.

So I sat down, and started to read this book I had borrowed already for three weeks but never had the "chance" (read: mood) to read. After around twenty pages or so, I started feeling drowsy, and really sleepy. The sun was shining and it was boiling hot, since my office is on the top floor.

"Time for a nap" my mind thought to myself. "What?! Here at work? Impossible! Ridiculous!"

But it was tempting. My office is pretty big, and very roomy, and there's just me there during the summer period. And it's at the back of the building, on the top floor, so not many (if any!) people ever go there. "Nobody has to know..." my mind kept saying to me.

It was very quiet, as if the whole building was deserted. If anyone were to come to the office, they'd first have to come through a door, and walk up a flight of stairs. "You'd be awake before anyone makes it up the stairs!" my mind consoled me, and tempted me further into napping.

So... I set the alarm for around 15 minutes, grabbed my thin summer coat, and just plopped myself down in one corner of the room, where it was cool and a bit darker. Closed my eyes, and just napped.

At first, I was still a bit uneasy, worried that I might fall asleep too soundly and wake up to see people standing over me and watching me. But I was paranoid, and reminded myself there was noone around, and that I'd hear people if they were really to come up the stairs. So I closed mys eyes, and just napped.

The alarm rang... but I pressed the snooze button, not once, but three times. When I finally decided to wake up, it was already 3pm. Feeling refreshed and somewhat 'proud' that I managed to pull this funny trick at work, I went back to working on my thesis. But then it was soon time to go home.

Another productive day... Well, at least that's the one crazy thing I promised myself I must do everyday.

Work, work, work!

I really should be working, but I feel restless and wanting to go out all the time.

I remember telling myself on the train journey back home that I'd had enough relaxation and fun for two weeks, and that it was time to get back to work. I did get back to work, but 'work work', which I officially started last week, and not any school work! So one day came, and went, and another, came and went, and another. Already one week after I returned, and I've not done anything at all on my thesis. The last save date of my writings on my computer was exactly one month ago!

Feeling somehow very little motivation to work on the thesis, even though I know I must get a move on. Instead, I've just been distracting myself and telling myself there's always tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. Frustrating.

I go to the office every single day, and I'd rather be doing my office work than my school work... So I've been busy doing the kind of things that interns do, and most of all building this great new website for my office. It's pretty exciting stuff, and I could just spend hours fidgeting this and that to perfect the site, or do other errands that they ask me to do. I guess my colleagues are impressed with me, and the way I work so efficiently and quickly... but oh how I wish I could put the same amount of effort into thesis writing!

And after an eight-hour day at work, you just want to unwind and not think of anything else. I thought to myself I could still get myself to read and write stuff for my thesis, but when I get home I'm just so tired, that I want to sleep.

Funny though, because when I see the sunset outside my window, all that tiredness goes away, and all I want to do is cycle to the beach and walk around for hours and hours. Hours I could have spent writing and working on my thesis! But instead, I spend them, watching the waves, admiring the clouds, and bidding farewell to the shy setting sun...

Festival Classique II

The sky was clear, at least for the time being. Light clouds floated overhead, hurrying to side with the denser and darker lump that had just passed and brought tremendous rain. The damp and dew-laden leaves glistened as the setting sun reflected off of them. There was a cool breeze in the air, that would eventually turn cold. But every wait had its reward.

I sat on the banks of the Hofvijver (pond), with my legs crossed, next to countless others who had braved the cold and rain earlier to attend this classic music concert. I had heard that under the direction of neeme Jaervi, the Residentie Orkest (Hague Symphony) had with a number of years become world-class, so this was not to be missed. The Buitenhof (parliament) buildings lay behind the stage, adorned by the echoes of the music in the air, or decorated with the tranquil reflection in the water surrounding it, taking on a completely different coat of class and wisdom in age. From time to time, I would temporarily close my eyes to collect myself… while at the same time, recollect the whole stunning atmosphere and combination of nature and man’s quest and conquest of beauty in music. Seagulls dipped in the pond like dragonflies, and circled the air in delicate motion.

Borodin’s famous piece from “Prince Igor” started off the evening. Captured the audience in sudden swings in between the tense marching of soldiers, and the elegant dances of the Polovetsian tribe. Ducks swam around the lake in sync, their movements and ripples seemed to match the music, as they danced to beautify the orchestra’s performance. Mussorgsky’s dashing piece of “Night on Bald Mountain”, which starts off frantically, echoing the danger and darkness of the looming night, but brightens towards the end with the sound of church bells and light clarinets signaling the rise of day. A lonely swan, snow-white, graceful and so majestic with its down outstanding in the dusk light, cruised the water with its neck held up high in elegance. The leaves moved to the music too, swaying in the wind ever so gently, as if afraid to move, but move it must because of the emotions that the music evoked.

Ravel’s crescending “Bolero” took the audience further into the evening. As the evening sky darkened, the music simultaneously got louder and louder. The same notes, soft flowing clarinets, hushed trumpets, flickering guitars and the stable undertone of drum beats, criss-crossed and met, circled and replayed themselves again and again. The crowd moved from side to side, to the music which got louder and louder, seemingly mesmerised like the way a snake would be under the skillful playing of an Indian guru. As the piece reached its climax with the clashing of symbols under the last stroke of the maestro’s elegant and agile directions, the crowd roared into applause, elated. People stood up and applauded continuously, wanting more. Brahm’s “Hungarian Dance No. 5” served as the crowd pleasing encore.



The ducks had disappeared, and the seagulls long gone home. But the music and memories linger, on and on.

Photos of my trip and more!

Guess I've been wanting to put up the pictures sometime, but never got the chance. And I doubt I can recall all the beauty and memories of my time away in "a thousand words", so the best is to paint picture.

So if you're interested to see what I've been up to, visiting and seeing for the last two weeks, please to go my travelog! : )

Festival Classique

The sky blushed, orange and red, shy perhaps from the way silky white clouds caressed its face gently. Music, pianos, harp and chello seranading in the air, in perfect harmony, while the voice of the choir sang in celebrated low and high tones to perform Rossini's 'Petite Messe Solonelle'. The wavy image of the ancient parliament buildings wavered in the water.


There's something magically romantic about an open-air classical music concert, especially when set against old buildings which slowly donned on their night orangy glow and accentuated shadows as the flood-lights came. In the distance, the Hofvijver fountain sprayed, silently spewing white water into the air, only to fall and echo the way the music silently and dramaticall rose and fell. It made me sigh inside.

Next to the Hofvijver I stood, mesmerised by the combination of the beauty of the sky, music and water flowing and flying around me. A crowd had gathered around me,standing still to admire the music and the beautiful setting. It was part of the Festival Classique series of concerts that started off today, and actually it was a paying performance. Those who did pay got seats in front of a floating stage where the Residentie Kamerkoor (Hague Chamberchoir) performed their art. The rest, free-riders like me, stood around the stage, but could still pretty much see and enjoy the whole performance. Which makes you wonder why pay. A mother duck and her duckling swam around, their movements sending out ripples across the water surface, seemingly matching the ripples that musical notes made in the evening air. Perhaps mother and duckling were the only ones that weren't really enjoying the evening, for they were trapped by the stage.



But that did not stop the moving music. Or the ever-changing display of lights and palette across the dusk sky.

At the post office

"What are you getting your dad for Father's Day?"

I typed in my bank-code to pay, and was not expecting the question at all. I thought it was a sales strategy, an attempt to get me to buy more things. I knew the Dutch TNT was cutting down on staff to save costs... but didn't realise they had become so desparate that they were promoting all sorts of gifts and goodies whenever you go to the post office to mail something. I hesistated and thought a little.

"A book. He likes to read." A little lie. I didn't know what I wanted to get for him... not yet.

"Hm, that's nice", the lady said, looking into the distance, looking puzzled, "I don't know what I'm going to get my dad." She turned to me, looking for contact.

"What does he like then?"

She thought a little. "Rabbits. He likes rabbits."

"Does he already have rabbits?" I went on, still a little curious where the conversation was going.

"Like around 30!" she answered, smiling. "Maybe some rabbit food. Carrots... or maybe hay?"
The receipt was printing slowly, and making a hushed rustling sound.

I was surprised by the number of rabbits he already had, and thought to myself maybe another rabbit wouldn't hurt. But instead I said, lightheartedly, remembering pictures of the little mascot I had just seen at the local supermarket: "What about a hamster?"

She laughed, and handed me the receipt. "Hm, that's a good idea. A hamster..." She looked on, puzzled, and and lost in thought.

"Bye-bye. Have a nice weekend." I turned to go, but then a part of me inside made me turn back to her again, "And good luck finding a gift!"

Rain, rain, rain

Sitting at my office, watching the raindrops splash and splattered on the roof window. There's a loud sounding echo, as drops as large as a golf ball continue to pound down. The radio that was playing in the background drowned in the noise.

After having had two weeks of almost constant sunshine, I'm back home, in the rainy Lowlands. Almost immediately after stepping off the train, I was caught off guard by the cold wind. The skies looked gloomy and clouds were lying low, and indeed the morning greeted me with the slight sizzle of drizzling rain. My plans to cycle to work were dampened by the sight of a drenched cyclist who looked so very miserable as he cycled passed my front door.

I guess I'm in that 'post-holiday mood', in which you're trying to pick up the bits and pieces of 'normal' life after having blocked it all out for a while. And already on the first day back being faced with complicated issues of office politics. None of it has to do with me, but it does to some extent affect my new position as a student assistant during the summer somewhat. It make you wonder why things have to be so complicated.

During lunchbreak today, I quickly popped into the baby toy store to buy something I plan to send as a sort of 'thank you gift' for letting me stay so long. I guess a piece of my mind is still stuck in Strasbourg, and it will be hard to bring it back...

Home again

Kitty greeted me as I silently opened the door. She rubbed her head against my feet, and was the only one to welcome me back. Everyone else was asleep. After some nine hours of travelling it's nice to see a familiar face, even if that's of your pet.

The train pulled away from Strasbourg, and I sat alone in my cabin. It took a while to realise that I'm leaving, after the last two weeks having passed like two hours in my mind. As the train sped into the hilly landscape of Alsace, I wondered when I will return again.

Sometime soon, that's for sure. When I first visited Strasbourg on that high school trip, I was but an innocent boy of fifteen. Walking around the old city, neck sore from staring at the soaring cathedral, little did I know then that my feet would take me back there, again, and again, and again. Perhaps I have a special bond with the city, and undoubtedly it will only grow stronger as Sunny grows older.

It was strange to see Sunny after almost half a year. He stared at me, and turned to hug his mommy by the legs, scared as if he had seen something frightening. I tried to reach out, to touch his little arm, but he pushed me away. It was a little gesture, but meaningful one, and one that made me somewhat disappointed. He had forgotten me, I thought, after all that we've been through together, after all the times I've been there for him and his mommy...

But soon enough, Sunny and I reconnected... more and more, with each passing day. Perhaps it was through the nightly baths that I gave him, during which I always end up being soaked from the splashes and kicks he makes, or perhaps it was the little cuddles I give him whenever he climbs over me in the morning and giggles in my ear to wake me. Whatever the reason, he didn't see me as a stranger any more, and that is a warming feeling.

It's funny how a baby can touch you so, and each time I visit him, I realise the power of his very being, and what an affect he has on me. Before he was a fragile being, so frail, and couldn't even sit up by himself. This time, he was crawling all over the place, and at times even daringly discovering the art of walking on his feet. Before, the world was whatever he saw from his pram or from the arms of his mommy. Now, the world was wherever his little hands and little knees could bring him. Before, he played with stuffed animals and cute little baby toys. Now, anything and everything could be a potential plaything. Which makes the world an exciting but also dangerous place.

A couple of times he hurt himself, bumping into cupboards, getting his little fingers stuck between in the doorway, chocking on toothpaste, and even swallowing a coin. But nothing seemed to take away his energy and life. Buddhism talks about living in the present moment... well for a baby life is really "here and now"... his needs, his curiosity, his movements, his cries, screams... all reflectinng what he wants there and then. Unlike grown ups, who fret and dwell in the already-gone past, and worry and prophesise about the unknown future, causing themselves unnecessary suffering and pain in the process. There's really a lot you can learn from a baby. Only a shame that most people tend to dismiss a baby as just a baby.

Coming back, to work and to my studies, I feel like I'm missing something in life, something I've left back there. But then again, I feel refreshed and full of life, because I've been able to see and feel life in its prime, in baby Sunny.

Baby Sunny sleeping

Baby Sunny V

Baby Sunny IV

Baby Sunny III

Playing with my suitcase, shortly after I arrived

"Allo? Allo?" He likes to pick up the phone and imitate his mum speak...

Sleeping... shhhhh

A night of you and me

You played with my, lips, brows, fingering them ever so softly, exploring each and every surface of my face like it was a new world waiting to be discovered. All the while, your big brown eyes stared into mine, with a look of curiosity, a look of familiarity at the same time. I stroked your soft little arm as your stuffed clown chimed out a lovely lullaby. Sleep, Sunny, sleep…

It’s been quite an evening. Mummy went out to the cinema on her own, so it was just the two of us. At first I doubted I could cope, and I was sure minutes after mummy left out the door you’d burst into tears. But mummy deserved some time alone.

You crept around in the kitchen and let out random shouts and screams. Not ear-piercing or irritating ones, but soft and cute ones that I replied to with calls of my own, as I fixed dinner for the two of us. Each time you called, I called back, only to be answered by an echo of my call, as you tried to imitate me. The kitchen filled with the fragrant smell of sizzling garlic and fish, as the call of a baby and a twenty-something pretending to speak baby.

You’re never choosy when it comes to food, and whenever your little Winnie the Pooh spoon took into the air, laden with fish and vegetables, your little mouth opened automatically, waiting. Dinner was quick, and the setting sun lured us out. Or perhaps just me, because you had no choice but go wherever I went.

We strolled down the riverbank of the Ill, in the shade of trees and occasionally feeling drops of water on our heads that were too heavy for leaves to carry. The ground was damp and puddly from the storm shower before, but the rain had stopped and the sky was beautifully dusk orange. I pushed you along, and sometimes you’d turn your little had to stare at me with those big eyes, perhaps silently asking where we were going. I too had no idea.

Pebbled jumped beneath the wheels, and twigs snaps under my feet. I’d pretend we’re a plane about to take off, and charge for a distance and all of a sudden lift up the front wheel, while at the same time make the sound of a roaring engine. You burst out laughing and giggling and waved your little arms up and down from the excitement. I smiled, and you smiled back.

Towards Petite France we went, down the alleyways and cobble stone road of ancient Strasbourg. Passer-bys would turn and stare, and on their faces you could see the temporary delight that your presence brought to their lives, even if only for a fleeting moment. And I enjoyed that feeling, of being mistaken as the proud dad of such an adorable little baby. It was as if for those moments walking around with you the world was fooled into believing that I am not so alone after all. And that’s a warming feeling.

Coming home, you were already fast asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, but it was time for your bath. You sleepily stirred from your sleep, rubbed your eyes and stood there in the bathroom, yawning, gaping, and drowsily wondering what was happening. But as soon as you saw the bath water running, you immediately lit up and wanted to climb in. you turned to me, with big eyes begging. Once in the tub you splashed around like a duckling exploring. What you liked most was the shower, and that strange feeling as it hit your skin. What joy! What fun you had, as I felt my sleeves and pants get soaked in the waves of water you splashed all over me.

In bed, you jumped around, up and down, wriggling to the rhythm of the children’s music playing in the background. I tried to put you down and to sleep, but you kept on sitting up and wriggling like a restless worm. The colourful musical clown lay at your feet and I pulled on the cord. A soft lullaby echoed in the air. It was as if it captured your heart, and calmed it down. Sleep, Sunny, sleep…

I covered you with the blanket, and lay down next to you. For a minute or two, you fumbled my face and cheeks, at first quickly and excitedly, but as the lullaby played on, your eye lids fell, further and further each time. You rubbed your tired eyes, the same eyes I stared into and saw my own reflection. What did you see in me, what did you feel in me?

Yawn.

Slowly your eyes close, heavier and heavier as the lullaby lingered…

Sleep, Sunny, sleep…

Baby Sunny

Playing with my mobile phone! : )