416

11 years ago on this day, I become 11.
This 22nd of November, I became 22.
It is a nice number so it will be a good year.

(and now that we are looking back, we all know what happened 50 years ago of course. Or actually we dont. there was a competition who got the best story of what he or she was doing 50 years ago on this day. i wonder if we are also going to do that for 9/11 so many years from now.. It's a bit strange, don't you think? Anyway..)

415

The remains of a breakfast, the murder of a fly and an uniform of sorts.

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!

411

There are many names for colours. One name for a shade of yellow is Laser Lemon. It is a real great name for a yellow, but my favourite is always mustard, because most yellow things eventually turn into mustard things because of the dirt. And I really like mustard as a food.

At which age do we stop asking eachother about our favourite colour? The question used to rise so often, that it was always on my mind ('maybe purple is my favourite colour now.. or maybe I just stick with bloodred..').

What is your favourite colour?

410

I'm not certain of many things, but one thing I know: if I ever (in the faraway future, please) get kids or a family, I will sew us all matching awkward outfits at least once and probably make it into a holidaycard, or let them wear something like this on my birthdays.

Until I have the motherly power to do this, I like to secretly, subtly match the people in my life. Or I match my clothes to my work or to my surroundings. It's the little things in life! ha.

more matchingness here.