Today the note on my tea bag asked me “How have you changed throughout the past five years?”. Reading this I realized that this question is posed the wrong way. It should be “How haven’t you changed in the past five years?”. So much has happened. The only things that are the same for me…
After half a year of no off-road riding, we arrived in The Netherlands to get my wheels dirty once more. The first part of mud nearly brought me to tears. Not the brave and happy kind of tears, but the terrified kind because I couldn’t remember how I ever got through these sticky situations. No…
Slowly I open my eyes. My down sleeping bag hugging me. The cold carresing my face. An owl barking in the distance. The cosiness of warmth surrounded by the icecold night. A sensation that makes me enjoy lying awake at night. A feeling of pureness. I close my eyes again and listen to the wind…
Sitting inside her apartment, watching the dark clouds drift by, she suddenly felt like a little girl again instead of the young woman she had become. The first rain drops started trickling down, making their way across the window like tears rolling down a cheek. She feels stuck, imprisoned in her own apartment. Not because…
Since I was 14 years old I wrote all kinds of stuff down in a diary, but I was told that I was a bad writer, so my words turned into secrets. They still are. A pile of notebooks filled with teenager thoughts, dreams and longings. It took me nearly ten years of secret scribbling…
We love, we give, we ride. Love in all its shapes and forms. Undefineable it escapes us. Silently it roars. We try to give it a name and capture it with all its highs and lows. Romantic love, sibling love, love for parents, love for friends, love for grandparents, love for beauty, love for a…
Imagine our skin could tell a story. Imagine writing all over our body for everybody to see and read. Now we see stories in each others eyes. We listen, we feel and we understand. But without us thinking about it, our skin tells a story. A story of life, of adventure, of pain and of…
It’s a simple question, why do people ride motorbikes? What drives them to leave the safety of a warm box and replace it with the mercy of mother nature? Why choose two wheels and the risk of toppling over above four? Are we crazy? And still, why are so many people intrigued by riding motorbikes,…
We continue our journey towards the big road. On weekdays it’s a crowded place, but on Sunday morning it’s as peaceful as a dewdrop. Straight ahead, at 90km/hour, we cruise along. The world is silent. Slowly I’m starting to think that maybe she doesn’t know where she’s going. Maybe she’s just driving along towards new…
