A window holds its breathas the day thins to a pale wash.Frost gathers at the corners,soft as dust. Someone walks past,coat brushing the airand sending in a brief drift of coldthat sharpens a thoughtthe way cold sometimes does—clean, immediate,quietly sure...

“winter palette"Winter leans inwith a painter’s restraint,lifting soft bluesfrom the frost’s first breath,letting tree‑shadows sketchsilver across the ground.Branches rise like quiet script,each stroke a reminderthat pared‑back beautyasks only to be seen..

"Zwijgen Voor Altijd"Within these walls,memory claws again—talons once rakedthrough tender skin.The bars still holdtheir verdict tight.The sound of bootsin narrow hallsmarks a rhythmtoo sharp to forget.Each strike recallsthe sentence spoken.Two figures bend low,eyes narrowed,searching shadowsfor a place to breathe.Their...