Monthly Archives: October 2016


Nobody falls in love with a girl who waters her plants by the windows.
Nobody falls in love with a girl who wanders and picks up dead leaves, and keeps them as her most precious treasure.
Nobody falls in love with a girl whose light is still on when everybody comes back from the party, and who is the last person to leave the library on a Saturday night.
Nobody falls in love with a girl who cycles with her head up towards the sky.
Nobody falls in love with a girl who treats the small details of everyday life with the utmost attention.
Nobody falls in love with a girl who watches unpopular films, who listens to music that you can’t dance to, who reads books that don’t serve her studies, and who studies in her free time.
Nobody falls in love with a girl whose best friend is her bike, who chases squirrels and befriends bugs, who finds shelter in the woods, and who wishes her roof were those tiny mushrooms.
Nobody falls in love with a girl who gets so consumed in listening to people that she becomes self-effacing in their presence.

But you did.

You fell in love with the girl who made bracelets from grass that stayed with you long after they withered.
You fell in love with the girl who watered her plants by the classroom’s window, plants she grew in a pot hand-made by you and her.
You fell in love with the girl who collected junks, evidences of your love story that you kept as your most precious treasures.
You fell in love with the girl who wrote you letters and buried them at the roots of some night-scented plant, because it represented silent love.
You fell in love with the girl who told endless stories about everything that caught her sight, who got wide-eyed at double rainbows and fainted stars on city sky, who made you guess the name of every urban tree, and who never let you miss any seasonal change.
You fell in love with the girl who saw meaning where no one else did, and whose imagination happened to match yours.
You fell in love with the girl who got lost in her own world too often,
until that world became you.

But you’re not here.
As time goes by you fall out of love.
You don’t know the girl that she is, right now,
that she wishes you would fall in love with,
that you would fall in love with, again.

She wants to be somebody’s.
But right now, she is nobody’s.


Looking through the glass


A moon landed in my cup.

Houses in the Netherlands have large and tall windows with big windowsill where you can store your stuffs, arrange decor items or sit and relax. As for me, I occupy my windowsill in every way I could. But what I love most is to sit on it with my knees curled up, holding a hot cup of tea or coffee, while watching the autumn leaves falling from the nut tree and people passing by or leaving the dorms or parking their bikes. My body is small enough to fit in the corner formed by the window and the wall. So I often sit there, head pressed against the glass, and the warmth emitted from the heater just under the window makes me feel sheltered like a little bird in its nest.

Have I ever said that it’s so easy to feel alone here? I mean, if you purposely seek for solitude, it’s out there. Sometimes when I feel like I need to hide myself away, I just (very spontaneously) cycle into the woods located right at the entrance of my university campus. It’s like university’s back garden. It is populated with old, tall pine trees, whose top branches intertwine like a roof, isolating the space underneath from too bright sunlight or too heavy shower. So this evening was one of those days where my asocial, blues-addict nature took over and urged me to go for an escape. It was around 7PM, and as winter time is approaching, the sun had already gone. A dim blue light filled the air. As I penetrated deeper into the forest, it got darker, colder and quieter. I could barely see anything. Leaves and nuts and branches cracked under my wheels. I moved aimlessly, trusting the small tracks to lead me to my next big discovery, until the sky opened up above me as I reached a small pond with wooden resting spot – probably for fishers. This kind of scenery is very common here in Tilburg – you just run into a pond, a lake, a canal or a river anywhere you go – and I guess it’s the same for any other place in the Netherlands, where water is ubiquitous. The water was still, occasionally agitated by the fishes, and so was the air. It was as if I temporarily left the ‘real’ world to enter another one where time didn’t move forward, but was frozen, or didn’t exist at all. There I sat, at the waterside, trying to imagine myself as one of those introverts movie characters with rich inner life. But I wasn’t filled with ideas, creativity or inspiration. I was facing myself, emotionally naked, and it was empty. Nothing but a nothingness.

Meanwhile, my friends were heading to a party, as they do every Tuesday night. This time, I was determined that I would resist the fun and the companionship. I knew it was not for me, and that I would get distracted. I was physically drained anyway. Later in the evening, when I was sitting next to the window, I heard people calling up to me from outside. I live on first floor so my room is really noticeable, especially at night with the light on. They kept crying my name enthusiastically. I wasn’t sure it was me, but then I looked out the window and saw them waving for me. All of them. Once again, it slightly crossed my mind that I could have been there – being included, together, not an outsider and a loner.  I still struggled with that feeling a few weeks ago, but tonight I felt completely certain and peaceful with my decision to go my own way. At that moment, my friends said something but it couldn’t reach my ears through the window glass. That glass is representative of my relation to people and to the world, most of the time. I watch them from a distance. But seeing implies to be seen. That’s why I always keep my curtains open, and sit by the window. Once in a while, someone will look up and see me.