Brussels - Bruxelles. I see drawings of henna decorated hands around the head of a young man sitting on the subway. It vaguely resembles the flag of Europe, with the circle of twelve stars. I recognize in the designs on the hands a few birds, branches with leaves and a crescent moon. These are symbols of heaven and earth, vitality and new life. I’m in Brussels, the capital of Europe, where the European Union reigns. The city is locked behind high glass offices and apartments. In between, many closed businesses that do not have survived. Not much a sign of new life. Even the tourist attraction Grand Place is hiding. And on the streets, people are sitting sad and hunched on benches. People flee in their homes and bring their children close. What remains of a bit cheerfulness is at the flea market. A sentimental journey through embroidered nudes, broken dolls and mannequins in evening dresses. The time is out of joint.
Wandering the streets, elevating the timeless and natural beauty of ordinary everyday subjects.
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