Bruno kept pushing the ball forward with his head. It went around the sofa, underneath the chairs and the table and over the blue carpet in the hallway. Bruno kept his eyes on the ball not wanting to let it go. He rolled it all the way outside onto the grass of the freshly cut lawn. The kids were watching Bruno as he crossed the garden all the way to the dog house. With ease he went around the obstacles lying in his path; the frisbee the kids were playing with, the branches that had fallen from the tree. When he reached the white dog house with the red roof the show was over. He left the kids staring at one another. Continue reading Rolling
Andrea, brave and courageous. I have no idea why my parents called me Andrea. I think especially my dad was a fan of the name. It is not as if they looked at me and thought: “There she is, my courageous girl.” The name was there before I was. Continue reading What’s in a name
Honestly… I’ve just started this blog, so swapping blogs and lives is not something I’m thinking of just yet. I guess looking at other blogs is taking a look into the future for me. I’d like to explore what writing, and in a way also photography, can do for me. At the moment writing is a hobby for me and, in my other blog andreaonderweg, a way to capture memories. I love to write and now I’m at the point where I’d like to explore my limits. How much can I do? And, what can I achieve in my writing? Continue reading Switcheroo
It is hot. Bloody hot. One of those days where it is thirty-something degrees but it feels like fifty. I feel like a donkey; carrying my big, heavy backpack, my daypack and my camera bag. Too cheap to pay for the ridiculously cheap taxis I walk and sweat my way to the mini bus station. The mini bus station turns out to be a minibus station and not so much a tiny bus station. I see hundreds of commuting Malay people who know exactly where to go. In the middle of all this I stand out as the tourist who doesn’t have a clue. Continue reading Culture shock with jungle fever
Peter had had a very stressful day. Work was hectic at the moment and his boss did not give him a single moment for himself. He’d even been calling at home lately for some last minute assignments. Peter opened the gate, walked through the garden and entered his lovely house in the suburbs. The house could sense something was wrong and so a signal travelled through the thick walls to the kitchen and hot tea was instantly prepared. Continue reading The old days relived
It’s in the heart of Sydney. Prime location, CBD. The elevators are old and small and there are always too many people wanting to get in. After a long wait the doors finally open and people seem to fall out of the tiny box. She steps in, alone. At the very last minute a man sticks his hand in between the doors that open just in time for his hands not to get squashed. Even though there is plenty of space the man stands eerily close to her. She doesn’t like it. She likes her personal space.
The man reeks of cigarettes and cheap perfume. He is not bad looking. On the contrary. His eyes are a bright blue and seem to pierce through everything they are looking at, yet they aren’t looking at all. His clothing is elegant, styled and probably comes from the fancy shopping center further along the road. The one she could never afford in a million years. He must be in his thirties. He must be here for some important appointment. He seems to have a lot on his mind.
Slowly the elevator moves up to one. It stops. The doors open once again. The man stays put. A woman walks in and even though the elevator is built for eight the man grabs the opportunity to stand even closer. His hand brushes her bum. Quietly she tries to move away, yet she doesn’t want to make anyone feel awkward. She seems to be the only one who feels awkward though. With a jolt the elevator starts moving again.
There is an odd vibe coming from the man. He stands slouched and his gaze is empty. The numbers change slowly as she stares at the sign above the door. Why couldn’t the elevator just go faster? Then, as the light turns to five, the man slowly turns his head and looks at her. She’s startled, her thoughts interrupted by the sudden movement. His eyes are filled with desperation. Before she knows what’s happening he presses a package into her hands and disappears through the opening doors.
She’s baffled and looks warily at the other woman, who hasn’t noticed a thing. Too busy with her o so important smartphone. Confused she stares at her hands. In the meantime the elevator reaches the top floor. Doors open. Doors close. As the elevator stops on the ground floor again she walks out and heads for her house, the package still in her hands. She unwraps the paper and gets a glimpse of the stack of banknotes.
Looking from the outside, people see an adventurous girl, living the dream, travelling all over. Sure, they occasionally read or hear about disappointments and struggles, but she must be leading the best life. She’s following her dream. “I wish I could do that” is a thing I regularly hear. News flash: you can! Continue reading Facing the unwanted
Ever since I’ve been travelling I’ve been writing down my stories; feelings, adventures, thoughts. As a little girl my ambition was to be a writer. Proudly I showed my newly written ‘book’ to my teacher as a 9 year-old. I’ve Always liked to write and people have even told me they enjoyed my writing.
So now I’ll embark on a new adventure. I shall start by mentioning my goals. Why am I writing? I’d like to build a portfolio, learn, develop my skills and broaden my horizon. I have no idea what form my writing will take and where this blog will lead me, but in order to see if writing could be a bigger part of my future I am taking the challenge, with the daily prompts as my guide.
As I am travelling through the world, here I will travel through my thoughts.