“There is no place like home”‏

Sunday, 29-June-2008.

“There is no place like home” is what a friend of mine told me through a phone call when I was waiting for my baggage in the Airport of Barcelona. That made me think. I analysed his fucking inopportune phrase and I considered it from the point of view by which it really has sense for me. Of course there was not place like home, there was no place like Sarphati. In that moment this thought tore me up. I burst into tears; all the tears that I could not cry in our lovely and amazing Dutch city. All my friends were waiting for me in my village’s festival but I was not ready. I could not see anybody that night. I was psychically knackered. And still I am. And still I Amsterdam. Thank you for being as you are. I always will love you,

Joan