I lie in bed with a book. It’s Sunday afternoon and I can still feel last night’s perfume in my hair. The sun is pouring inside the room through the large windows, and I can see steam rising from the rooftops across the street. Every now and then, above naked trees and functional buildings, a plane is cutting the horizon, on its way to the airport. An urban winter landscape.
I realise there is nothing cosy about Amsterdam East. No beauty to distract you from the essence of things. What you see is who you are. Nothing more, nothing less. Ever since I’m living in this part of the city, I feel that every day I am given a foundation, and it’s up to me what I am building on it. No ginger bread houses and no arching bridges to look at and say: oh wow, that’s cute, I feel better just looking at it! In the East, what you see is what you feel.
Today, however, is a good day. Because it’s Sunday and because it’s sunny. Because we’re making pumpkin soup and because we visit friends. And because we are home.