after three years minus one month of roaming the earth, my Samson finally met his Delilah. she was lurking in the haagsche bos, of all places, with her scissors ever at the ready. it was a shock, there is no denying that. and for a while there, i thought he did look like those french prisoners, all the way back in 1789, getting ready for their last cart trip. but having slept on it, literally and metaphorically, i have to admit it's much better. lighter. freeer.
(and that pretty much summarizes my inner process these days. the guillotine is lurking, ever-present, right at the end of that light-less tunnel i periodically fall into. and that makes the moments outside the tunnel feel so precious. so light. so free.)
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