NUKS: Looking-Glass

Summer June 2021

NUKS Looking-Glass

www. studieverenigingknus.nl

What’s Inside...

Table of Contents

ACS/ACW Memories

4

Spaces & Déjà-vus

7

“At the end of everything, hold on to anything”: A notes app excerpt on Night in the Woods

8

KNUS in Pictures

10

Cultural Belonging

12

A Love Letter to Enneagram: Finding a Sense of Identity

14

Resolution: Short Story Finale

15

Let’s talk about us, baby! Let’s talk about you and me! Let’s talk about all the good

art:

2

@taranormal

Editors

Editors in Chief

Adil Boughlala Anna Heijnis Anthea Vevirya Charlie Chowdhry Charly Hermanns Daniela Piangiolino Jonathan Zackor Kika Van Der Vlist Paula Werdnik Sofieke de Loos

Shanna de Caluwé Tatyana Dimitrova

Cover and Internal Design Tatyana Dimitrova

things and community!

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Rewriting Short Stories

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PREFACE

Dear reader, The end of the academic year is approaching again. For some of us, this means the end of ACS/ACW as a whole.

Me and Shanna are one of those people.

Perhaps we won’t see each other ever again, perhaps we will and maybe we’ve never even seen each other at all? You know, lockdown’s fault…

I want to express here how much KNUS and the NUKS meant to me. This study association and committee has given me so much space and opportunities to develop. Back in high school, I wasn’t a social person who took on “extra” activities, so when I came to Radboud, I

I invite you to sit back and enjoy!

was really sceptical about joining KNUS.

That’s the last favour I will ask of you,

Despite that, I did! And if I could, I would

and I believe I speak for the whole

go back in time and pat my past self on

committee.

the back. You made a good choice past Tatyana. Because of all the wonderful

“You must realise that something is

people I met through KNUS, I’ve

happening to you, that life has not

developed personally so much, you’d not

forgotten you, that it holds you in its

be able to recognise me if you knew me in

hand and will not let you fall.” - Rainer

high school. I’m proud of that and I owe

Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

that to all of you. The spring blossoms everywhere, in the yards, in the parks, are

Co-Heads of the NUKS committee

so lovely. I wish I could take them all and

& Designer,

give it to every single KNUSer. Wouldn’t

Shanna de Caluwé

that be something?

& Tatyana Dimitrova art:

@orange-drawings

3

ACS/ACW MEMORIES

Propedeuse ceremony

Trip to Efteling

Kunstnacht

Intro Week !

4

Trip to Bonn

KNUS Vision

ACS/ACW MEMORIES

First week of uni

KNUS Member Appreciation Day

Volunteering at Go Short Film Festival

Trip to the Open Air Museum, Arnhem

5

ACS/ACW Memories!

by Daniela Piangiolino & Paula Werdnik The weather is getting warmer, the days are getting longer and tentative buds are unfurling… summer is fast approaching, as is the end of the academic school year.

And for many of the ACS students it means the end of their studies as well! Though the corona pandemic continues to stretch on, the promise of the warmth and freedom of summer is pushing us forward, one step at a time. It has been a wild three years for us all and in honour of the last NUKS, we are sharing everyone’s favourite memories to celebrate our collective experiences during ACS!

On pages 4 and 5: Therese:

Daniela:

Tatyana:

“I had to send you the first

“I have countless memories

“These are from an event in the

picture, it’s of our song-contest

with all the wonderful people

first year in which we had to

group from the first year, we

in these studies, and the wall

dress like our childhood heroes.

were all such children!!!! So

in my room knows who are

Merel

cuuuuttee!! This gang really

the people that accompanied

herself! And fun fact: she had

cemented my good feelings

my university journey! The

glitter on her bike’s saddle for

about the studies and meeting

picture on the left is from my

months after that and when

these beautiful people made

intro-week in August 2018 and

someone stole it she described

me feel so comforted by how

those homemade Teletubbies

it in a facebook group as “it has

overwhelmed I was feeling!

outfits stole the heart of some

glitter on the saddle” ”

And also, it’s proof that there

older years! The picture on the

was a time before Lexi and

right is from April 2021, and

I

(Well

we were celebrating Freya’s

actually not really ‘cus we

were

inseparable!

birthday! Almost three years

clearly were already close in

apart,

this picture! hahah)”

Thank you Emily, Freya, Lilla

we’re

& Sunny!”

6

still

together!

made

the

costumes

Spaces & Déjà-vus

by Daniela Piangiolino

T

oday, my best friend asked me if I have ever had a déjà-vu. Yes, of course I’ve had many - I told her.

A specific moment appeared in my mind.

It was 15th of March 2021 and it marked three months since I was stuck at home, in Italy, and it was also the first day of a new strict lockdown. No walks, no runs, no friends, no relatives for the next three weeks. Again. Every moment of apparent freedom came with periods of fear and segregation, hitting harder and harder every time. So I found myself sitting on the empty rooftop of my house every morning, trying to create space in my mind, imagining being somewhere else while the city came alive with all my neighbours opening their windows, the gardener watering the plants, the cars honking despite the early hour.

Sometimes I looked in front of me and my eyes would mistake the belltower of the San Domenico church (left) with the one of the Sint Stevenskerk in Nijmegen (right), which I usually observe every morning from the rooftop when I wake up. It had

been a couple of months since I started having that sort of déjà-vus, perceiving a space around me which is deeply different from the one that surrounds me. If space is produced through practices of everyday life, my mental space seems to be produced by the lack of practices that were taken for granted.

Places are the fusion of space and experience. When I would run with my dog in Italy, I would still imagine the green Ooijpolder with its intense smell of nature surrounding me. Or when I would wake up at night in my childhood room, I could see for a moment all the colorful pictures on the wall of my room in Nijmegen. Déjàvus are awakenings of a hidden memory enclosed in a view, in a touch, in a smell, in a sound.

Now that I am back in Nijmegen, I feel reunited with my mind, and the déjà-vus disappeared. My body is present in the spaces I inhabit every day, where memories and present life come together.

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“At the end of everything, hold on to anything.”

An excerpt from my notes app on why I love Night in the Woods (because I don’t know anyone who has played it to talk to)

by Tatyana Dimitrova Consider this a recommendation if you will. Perhaps I am four years late, but a week ago, I finally managed to download Night in the Woods. Was it legal? Well, you don’t need to know that, but I will propose that: would Mae Borowski be proud of me if I didn’t commit crimes?

Night in the Woods is a single-player adventure game.

A story-focused exploration game in which you explore the town of Possum Springs through the character of Mae Borowski and hang out with her friends Bea, Gregg and Angus. And some other interesting figures. Mae is an only child and a college dropout, who returns back to Possum Springs - a town populated by zoomorphic humans. Living in her parents’ attic, she explores her small hometown and discovers how much it has changed. Now, this is enough, I don’t want to spoil it in case you decide to check it out yourself. But I will let you know: you get to jump on roofs, walk on the electric wires, break stuff with a baseball bat and steal pretzels from the pierogi stand for your rat babies. Crimes, crimes, crimes!

The reason why I love this game and am absolutely obsessed with it (even though I’ve already played through the whole of it) is much more than what most people see just on the surface: Cool! A depressed cat!

First of all: the themes! Full of anti-capitalist connotations, this game shows how it is impossible for capitalism to exist without ruining the vast majority’s individual lives. It is a cynical and sharp look at contemporary work culture and the pressure to conform. It touches upon issues of labour exploitation and basic life necessities, such as living wage. The whole story revolves around the history, unions and strikes of the mine workers of Possum Springs. Mae makes references to the upper class, the people who’d (quite literally) sacrifice the lives of “people who wouldn’t contribute to society”, as “the other gods”. It showcases how capitalism alienates people from their labour, leading them to being unable to enjoy life at all. And all of this is just a part of the bigger picture. The game also touches upon matters of mental illness and the way it affects one’s life.

Most importantly of all, ACAB Mae! She thinks her cop aunt is trying to kill her.

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Mae Borowski’s story is one that I can deeply identify with. At the moment of writing this, I am in this weird limbo state. Just three more weeks until I submit my final assignments and finish my last exam, and (hopefully) I’ll have graduated and have a bachelor’s degree. But what comes after? I don’t know. And it’s not like I am not absolutely terrified of the future, because I have no idea what’s going on there or if even anything is going on, but almost every adult I talk to asks me what I’ll do after I graduate... Jeez, let me graduate first! The fact that I am considered an adult is both hilarious and terrifying.

Honestly, I don’t know. And that’s why I identify with Mae so strongly. I feel like in a month or two, I will be back in my small hometown, where time has stopped but not quite, not having a job and making excuses while everyone tells me I should find one. Just like Mae. Except I won’t be a college dropout but have an actual degree. And still no job.

Just wandering around town... perhaps committing crimes.

“I believe in a universe that doesn’t care and people who do.”

- Angus Delaney, Night in the Woods

Anyways, let’s continue! Apart from the storyline, filled with anti-capitalist and socialist themes, the clearly very gay main character and insanely good soundtrack, I am absolutely in love with the art style and animation of the game. It is extremely simple. Just basic shapes put together to resemble animals looking like humans. Basic concepts.

Extremely simple yet so satisfying to look at and enjoyable to play. It shows that art does not need to be elaborate and fancy to be good. It gives me hope. It makes me believe I too can one day create something people will enjoy and perhaps even find comfort in.

There were many moments in the game which made me tear up. I couldn’t stop playing. The time to have found it and downloaded it was possibly the worst: I needed to concentrate on finishing my last bits of university work and the designing task for my client. But it was also the best: I needed that kind of comfort story because of my personal situation. I kept playing and before I knew it, it was over. And the epilogue, it spoke to every bit of me, down to the core of the monstrous existence of my atoms:

“Nothing is going to save us forever. But a lot of things can save us today.”

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KNUS

IN

10

N PICTURES 11

Cultural Belonging

by Jonathan Zackor

I

was born in 1999, in East Germany. Well, not East Germany as we all know from history class, meaning the former German Democratic Republic (GDR). No, I was born in the part that now belongs, in the geographic sense, to the Eastern part of Germany. I did not live during the monumental event that was the fall of the Berlin Wall; I was born almost exactly 10 years later. But, as weird as this may sound, I have always felt connected to this traditionally ‘Eastern’ side of my identity.

Maybe that is because my family and I always travelled to Poland, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia on family hiking vacations.

art:

oekaki-chan

Even though I did not understand the languages of any of these countries - well, except for the restaurant menu cards - I felt safe. Protected. Like I somehow belonged.

It’s the same when I come across sentimental objects from my parents’ childhood: old books, stationery, post stamps, Christmas ornaments, pictures. I feel an emotional attachment to these objects that are not mine. They belong to the past, to a society that does not exist in that way anymore. There is definitely a nostalgia aspect to it – and the gap between the times passed and my conscious existence is massive. But I feel at peace with this past culture and, for that matter, a bond with all things that are situated within the safe space that is located in East-Central Europe… which is, of course, only possible while wearing rose-tinted glasses.

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I think it does not come as a surprise when I tell you that I only became aware of this self-declared cultural positioning and belonging when I was confronted with the Other. Living and studying both in Ireland and now in the Netherlands made me aware that I felt this out-of-place-ness in these (for me) rather Westernized spaces, very often, and still do. I am sure that many of us internationals have often heard the question of “where are you from?”… especially when we are around Dutch people and our Dutch skills are not up to conversational standards. My German accent is, of course, very telling as to where I am originally from. And maybe, it is because Nijmegen is so close to the German border, but the people I meet always assume that I come from the West of Germany.

Perhaps it is also somehow a default thought to associate the German Federal Republic of today with the “Western” from before the Wall fell. In the time of a reunited Germany, it feels weird to get hung up on this, but I feel like I definitely do not belong to the Western part of Germany. But do I really belong to the Eastern part then? I have to admit that it often feels weird to declare that I am German at all. I cannot deny that I desire to

completely cut myself off from all things German, which is something that I encountered way more during my time in Ireland. My Italian host sister was full of national pride, while I felt ashamed of my German accent (of course, there is a whole story behind that as well, looking at Germany’s historical track record). To re-establish any sense of belonging, I became immensely attached to the Irish culture, which only lasted until I was back in Germany in my familiar surroundings. Being in the Netherlands - with the frequent complaints about Dutch bread or the nightmares about missing the train or being late to even small events (but whether that is just general anxiety is anybody’s guess) - have shown me that it is hard to let go of the culture that I was born and raised in for nineteen years.

This balancing act between cultures that I have described may sound familiar to some. Personally, I experience it as incredibly emotionally draining.

I think that in the big picture, we as humans are always longing to belong somewhere; to relate to others. This sense of collectiveness, of community, should not be limited by any borders. It should be felt.

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A Love Letter to the Enneagram: Finding a Sense of Identity

by Charlie Chowdhry

A

few years ago, a friend of mine asked me if I had heard of the Enneagram. I had not.

He explained that it was a personality test with 9 possible results (and a few sub-results), and that he was very interested in knowing what type I was. I clicked the link he sent me and filled out the questions. As I began to look down the list, I spotted a few that seemed as if they were designed for me.

In fact, the further I got through the quiz, the more I felt like the creator of the quiz knew me personally.

As soon as I got my results and clicked to read more about my Enneagram type, a mirror was shoved unceremoniously into my face, and I was horrified by what I saw. Somehow, this personality quiz had figured me out - it showed me my deepest, darkest, most embarrassing secrets. It knew things about me. It knew that so much of my sense of self is derived from my sense of individuality: I must always feel unique, whether it is that I am uniquely gifted or uniquely damaged. It knew that I was afraid of feeling like I have no identity. And, to add insult to injury, it was likely that 1/9th of the people who took this quiz got the exact same result as me.

If you are familiar with the Enneagram, you will likely already be able to tell my Enneagram type, but for the purposes of avoiding doubt, I am a Type 4. Personally, I think this type is the most interesting and dynamic, but of course I would say that. Type 4s are characterised by self-awareness, sensitivity and creativity. We are the archetypal tortured artist desperate to be creative, but feeling too flawed and imperfect to create art that does justice to our own genius visions.

You may be the sort of person who doesn’t like personality tests. You may be scrunching your nose up at the previous two paragraphs - ‘did he really

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need a personality test to tell him all of that?’, you may ask. It’s a fair question, and it’s one I do have an answer to. If you don’t see the point of personality tests, you may be the sort of person who does not go through the 5 stages of grief when asked for a fun fact about yourself. You may feel insulted at the notion that you would need a personality test to know things about yourself. For myself, and for those of us who enjoy taking personality tests, the results of these tests offer something that we can’t always give ourselves.

Insecurity is often characterised as shyness - a shrinking flower clinging to the walls of a party.

However, in my case (and I presume the case of others), it is a fundamental shakiness in one’s sense of self. I am self-assured when I am around other people, because I can see myself in them and in their reactions to me.

They are my mirror. I am an extrovert, after all. But when I am by myself, trying to draft a motivation letter or name a ‘fun fact’ about myself, I don’t really know who I am. I can only describe myself in terms of what I give to other people, or what I will accept from them.

A personality test, such as the Enneagram, offers people the opportunity to have a mirror shone on them that will tell them a great deal about themselves. On a basic level, it’s far less awkward than having to ask your friends to describe you. I think these tests offer something much deeper, though. ‘Kind’, ‘helpful’ and ‘funny’ are all just things that you can offer to other people, but so often they are adjectives people use to describe themselves. Who are you when you aren’t trying to please others? Who were you before you learned to act differently in order to fit in the world?

A personality test such as the Enneagram has an answer to this. At the time I found the Enneagram, I was not in a good place in my life. I only knew who I was in terms of what other people were telling me, and I didn’t like what I was hearing; I didn’t like myself at all. After I finished looking through my Enneagram type’s flaws, I read through the things that make people of my type so special. The test told me that I am romantic, profoundly creative, and emotionally resilient. For whatever reason, this had a great impact on me. I have a theory about why this was.

I believe it hearkens back to what I said about one’s identity when one is apart from other people.

My artistic nature, my tendency to romanticise my life and my emotional awareness don’t disappear when I am away from others, and there is nothing anybody can say or do in order to change these aspects of my being.

They are solid and steady, even in my insecurity. At

the moment I took the Enneagram test, I was not capable of the type of introspection that would have provided me with these facts about myself. I couldn’t have found these things out about myself from other people, nor could I have known to look for them in myself; the Enneagram test was my looking-glass.

Most people have used a looking-glass at some point in their lives, to get a better understanding of who they are. Perhaps they used the zodiac, the MBTI, or listened to trusted people in their lives. Maybe they were introspective enough to find everything about themselves,

but I doubt this: eventually, we all encounter people in our lives who provide a looking-glass for us unsolicited, and we remember what we see in the reflection they give us.

A final note: perhaps while you have been reading this article, you found yourself stumbling over my commentary on the adjectives ‘kind’, ‘helpful’ and ‘funny’; maybe these are some of the only things you know about yourself.

Maybe you only really know who you are in terms of other people. If this is the case, you may be in need of a good looking-glass.

RESOLUTION

Short Story Finale

-

A couple of days had passed. Maddie had almost forgotten about the matter of grandma’s painting.

Almost. Which means she didn’t forget about it at all. It was always there. At the back of her mind. While taking the English literature test on Wednesday, it was there, in the background, gnawing at her consciousness. Like a little mouse nibbling at a piece of chocolate.

Huh? Chocolate? Not cheese? Maddie knew that, contrary to popular belief, mice don’t like cheese as they like chocolate or peanut butter or bacon. Did you know that? Why did she know that? It doesn’t really matter.

That same day, the day of the English exam, she went straight back home, declining an offer from a few classmates to go out for frozen yoghurt. No, she had to go home as soon as possible.

Once Maddie was in her room, door locked, she took out the painting from behind the wardrobe where she had shoved it the morning after the strange event happened.

She put it leaning against the wall and took a deep breath. For a minute, nothing happened. She was just there staring at the tiny house in the green field, waiting for whoever inhabited it to show signs of life again. And she waited. And a little more.

art:

“Honey, you okay?”

It was Maddie’s dad. He seemed to be the one showing his concern for her health in the most visible way. And most intrusive as well.

Maddie sighed. She was a little angry at this point.

“I am fine, dad! Give me some space,” she replied, perhaps a little too loud and harsh, because her dad stood for a little at the door, looking at her worriedly, then turned around and went down the stairs. Maddie decided that the day had been far too long and she needed to go to bed.

@studiosatsch

by Tatyana Dimitrova

Here it is.

Tiny light flickers coming from the window. And the breeze followed. This time there was the spring smell of lilac. Maddie adored that scent. Her hand stretched out and touched the surface of the canvas.

Blob, blob.

Concentric circles appeared around the spot she had touched with her finger, as if a drop of water had fallen into a still stream. Maddie went forward and little by little her whole body entered the painting, as if she was falling into the waters of a river.

Is that all?

That is all.

The truth is, the writers of this segmented short story have got the protagonist into such a peculiar situation, that there is not enough space for resolution. We don’t see how we can ever get her out of it again. Therefore, we will wash our hands of the whole business and leave her to get out of it in the best way possible she can figure out. Or else, stay there.

The remainder of this eventful and mysterious story will not be found in this or any other following publications at the future time.

Is there no explanation of the mystery of Maddie’s grandmother’s painting of pain?

Ask yourself if there is any explanation of the mystery of your own life and death.

15 Farewell.

Let’s talk about us, baby!

Let’s talk about you and me!

Let’s talk about all the good things and community!

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

by Tatyana Dimitrova

S

o, with a global panini and a lockdown extending over a year, there has been a lot of talk about “burnout and how to avoid it so you can do better work!” The answer to that is often self-love and selfcare, most commonly expressed through facials and/or other forms of spending financial capital. But can you really self-love or self-care yourself out of loneliness or, most importantly, out of oppression?

Most often, when we talk about self-actualisation, we think of Maslow’s pyramid of needs (you know, that image that has recently made its way back on the Internet as a meme). But is it really all true?

Do you remember in high school, when you had Physics classes and you learnt about lenses? The light would enter through the glass lens and, in theory, the image which one is looking at would appear upside down but, because our eyes are mysterious little organs, we’d still perceive it normally, the image is just expanded? I know, sounds complicated and I am probably not explaining it all that well. For I can say without any shame, I was never good at Physics. But one thing I know, and it’s that this is what the Looking-Glass does. Abraham

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Maslow seems to have developed his pyramid of needs using one of those. But let’s take a looking-glass ourselves and examine history a little closer.

Why am I saying that? Why are you attacking the poor American psychologist, Tatyana!

The short answer is: I enjoy being a hater.

Here’s the long answer.

Most of what you think you know about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is wrong. This (image on p. 16) is the model that we are all introduced to if we happen to get involved with Psych 101. Heck, even if we don’t, there’s a 99% chance that you’ve encountered it at least once in your life. According to it, our basic physiological needs are at the bottom of the pyramid and achieving one’s full individual potential (self-actualisation) is at the apex.

What you may not know, though, is that Maslow spent six weeks with the Blackfoot First Nation (Siksika) in the summer of 1938. Why is that relevant? Well, the Blackfoot First Nation is an indigenous nomadic bison hunter tribe, and as with many many other cases of White colonists stealing from native cultures, Maslow stole his famous model from them too.

While spending time with them, he learnt about their worldview and the Blackfoot Tipi. After that, he appropriated and misrepresented their perspective to establish his own Maslow hierarchy. And then, of course, didn’t give them credit. According to the Blackfoot hierarchy of needs (image on p. 17), self-

First Nations’ Perspective

“Whether we learn how to love ourselves and others will depend on the presence of a loving environment. Self-love cannot flourish in isolation.”

- bell hooks actualisation is at the bottom of the pyramid. In the middle, there is belonging and community actualisation where people take care of and help each other with their basic needs. And at the top is cultural perpetuity, which is teaching each other how to live in harmony with the land and achieve community actualisation through generations.

It makes so much sense, right? Taking care of oneself is not enough. We have to take care of each other and our community.

So, to go back to the question I posed at the beginning: can you self-love or self-care yourself out of loneliness or out of oppression? No .

Individualism is endemic. But we all need to shake ourselves off of this Western concept we’ve been socialized with. People need communities, companionship, support and love. Life is meant to be shared. No amount of love can substitute these things. Let me include Lenin here. His thesis is that it is impossible to live in a society and be free from it. Even in capitalist societies and their economic pressures. You always exist dialectically, in relation to everyone else. You can’t escape it and, thinking about it, doesn’t it seem silly to think that you should be the only

one who takes care of yourself and the only one you can rely on?

That one American film director that is praised as a classic of the canon for Citizen Kane. Orson Welles. You probably watched it for Image Analysis in your first year of Arts and Culture. He once said: “We’re born alone, we live alone and we die alone.” Really now Orson? You delivered yourself during your birth? You built all the roofs that have ever given you shelter? You have sown the wheat of your bread or weaved the clothes on your back? You wrote all the books you’ve ever read and all the music you’ve ever listened to?

You made the bed you died into? You, all alone?

I hate individualism. The concept that we are not all connected. All of us are part of a collective.

A community. No one has ever done anything alone. We do not need to compete with everyone else. We need to cheer on each other and cherish each other’s achievements as a contribution to the welfare of humanity as a whole.

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Rewriting

Short

Stories

Last 1st June, the Symposium Committee organised a wonderful workshop with Max Hermens, a former ACW student who now works for Wintertuin. After reading together some ‘very short stories’ - Amy Hempel’s Housewife, Franz Kafka’s Passers-by, Lydia Davis’s The dog hair and Lost things, and Marc van der Holst’s (click) - Max gathered the participants in groups of two and gave them 30 minutes to rewrite one of the short stories using their own thoughts, lives, and scenarios. Here you can read some of them!

Phases by Daniela & Freya I’ve laid down close to every source of warmth present in my room to alleviate the pain (New Moon). My favourite white linen dress is spotted for the first time (Waxing Crescent).

Tonight mum is cooking red bean rice to mark the day (First Quarter). At school, I now notice girls whisper in the corridor to help each other (Waxing Gibbous). I’ve never craved physical touch this much before (Full Moon). My body speaks now as it never did (Waning Gibbous). I am wearing my favourite white linen dress (Last Quarter). I dread the time when it will come again (Waning Crescent). I’ve laid down close to every source of warmth present in my room to alleviate the pain (New Moon).

By Emily “In five minutes, I will ask you what you are writing about.” That is the last thing Melanie said to me before she turned off her microphone and started rewriting Kafka’s “Passers-by”.

Five Minutes. It is warm in my room, and the old fridge in the corner is humming. Through the open window, I can smell the BBQ my neighbors are making, and I wish I could join them. Four Minutes. Max enters the Zoom-Meeting, he wants to know how it is going.

Melanie is writing about fighting neighbors, I am writing about nothing. Three Minutes.

Melanie looks very thoughtful in her small tile in our breakout-room. I am wondering what words she is writing at this moment, what worlds she is creating. Two Minutes. I start to feel a little nervous. I am only writing about the current moment. I hope no one will ask me to read this story aloud. One Minute. I remember that I already told Melanie which story I am rewriting when Max visited us, so the five minutes became irrelevant.

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background art:

@fnkdesigns

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Friends of KNUS: Marcel van den Haak

www. studieverenigingknus.nl