'Dust to dust'
Around us time shifts everything towards dust, the final state, and that colors all our pictures. Because we know, there is a shadow of transience in the pictures of our minds, no matter how pure or pristine they are.
Sometimes, when my mother cleaned house at mrs Wiersma and recieved her payment, she took me to the bookshop at the Groenestraat, opposit the monastery.
Then she bought me a package of folding paper. The package contained square paper sheets in 5 colors. The sheets were stacked and arranged on color and I enjoyed that. But at the same time I knew that it wouldn't stay that way. That at some point I would open the package, because tinkering was the purpose. And that was what I wanted, with those beautiful sheets in all these colors, but the harmony of that perfect stack would be broken. And the knowledge of this going to happen always scraped a little against the pleasure of that new package of folding paper. And although I always enjoyed making something pretty out of it and I frequently got a new package, that double-faced feeling never really left.