Today, enjoying the sun on Jharda‘s rooftop in the 9 Streets, a cold drink at hand, I realized I no longer had a problem with routine. Routine is no longer an obstacle between myself and my creative realization because the creative ideas have left me or at least they are on hold. So, I do not feel I am wasting time when I am not being productive, as I would normally feel. Because what else to do with time if not enjoying a sunny day on a rooftop in Amsterdam?
Then the idea to go to Westerpark and see the trees in bloom came. We sat on the grass underneath a tree and looked at the children playing happily in the park. I felt happy, too, for no particular reason. “Whoops! A cherry flower hit me,” said Jharda, and I burst into laughter almost immediately, repeating her words and imitating her voice. It was “raining” with cherry flowers and sunshine.
Life appeared to me as if seen through pink glasses today: the cherry blossom was pink, the cakes were pink, the cups were pink, the shop signs were pink, Jharda’s blouse was pink. And although I was wearing black, as usual, I knew I was pink, too.
