The higher a man rises up the scale, the more things he must relinquish. On the mountain peak there is only room for that man alone. The more perfect, the more complete; the more complete, the less other he is.
I already tweeted about it about a week ago:
Translated to English: For the first time in a long time, the saldo of new followers versus accounts that stopped following me is negative. When I check what causes this, I see that most of the unfollowers are "suspended accounts": #bigcleanupattwitter.
Yesterday, we went to the closing night of FilmFest Ghent:
If you want to know which movies won the film festival, please visit our wil-low.com filmfest page.
This is the list of the movies we watched:
If we don't pick up our phone, if we do not answer mail, don't worry: we haven't disappeared from the surface of the earth, not literally in any case. We'll be in flight mode for the next two weeks, due to the International Film Festival in Ghent:
Between the age of 16 and 18, I spent at least 10 hours a week in a school of arts, painting oil paintings. Last weekend, I decided to see if my old brushes and paint were still any good. Not in the least, I also wanted to know if my painting skills were still any good. So I set up my easel:
The YouTube video only had 5 views since it was published last night, but the video on Facebook already reached 1,531 people; 47 people engaged with the post, and the post generated 184 clicks.
Er is geen teken van herkenning wanneer ik in de spiegel kijk. Ik zie een ongeschoren man, net uit bed, maar nog vermoeid. Ik poets mijn tanden.
Het is een lange, droge zomer geweest, maar de laatste weken van augustus hebben we flink wat regen gekregen. Ook vannacht heeft het geregend. Ik speur de tuin af naar de hond. Het is een gewoonte die moeilijk af te leren is na veertien jaar, denk ik, wanneer ik besef dat ze er niet meer is. We hebben haar gisteren laten inslapen.