414

One can't really go wrong with dead-animal-museums, not with this girl at least. But I have to say that the one in Berlin has done the most supurb job.
In most museums it's just dead animals behind glass, with little plates that tell you their funny latin names. Berlin took it a bit further and shows you the cruelty of those cute flapping fellas. A mumbird feeds her babybirds another babybird she just killed, owls who just killed a magpie look at you like you're next, a sad little sparrow lays bleeding in the gutter of a Berlin sidewalk next to some gum and cigarette butts, a shark hangs wrinkled-up in a glassjar because no-one bothered to make him look nice.. And as a highlight of it all, they had a gorialla with my name. Can you get me any more excited? I don't think so.

413

Never under-estimate the tiniest of things.
I'd like to have a coat with a hundred pockets, all filled with little treasures. I'd roam the streets all day and sell my treasures to hurried strangers. This song is fitting: click.

412

I'm in need of adventures. Holidays are still a few weeks away, so I try to still my wander-hunger by watching many travel/science-documentaries, digging up pictures of almost-forgotten trips, searching for tickets I can't afford, and baking bread.
Baking bread is like an adventure on its own. Mixing and kneading until your hands hurt, waiting and watching as the dough rises (a magical thing if you ask me), shaping the bread and cutting the top slightly, watching it slowly split open as if it were alive, whispering sorry under your breath, putting it in the oven, and waiting again. The smell of baked bread starts to take over the smell of yeast. Knocking to see if nobody is home and then, unable to wait for it to cool down, taking a bite of a fresh warm slice of homemade bread. Lekker!