The Almost Garden

A house in Maastricht, many years ago

He pours black coffee from a steel kettle flaking with green paint. We are all unsure of the mixture, cooked over a temperamental gas cooker surrounded with paintbrushes, chair legs and the bones of apes. There is a long silence, in Dutch, English, and Malay. Somewhere, out of the window on the third floor, a crow sings to the roses.

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24 year old with an awful lot to say about everything. Opinions entirely my own. Usually.

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