The Young Man

 

It was a warm and beautiful summer afternoon. I remember it so well. I was wandering along the narrow streets in Lübeck, a northern German city.

 

The glow of the sunset fell lightly on the colourful high windows of St. Mary’s Church.  The small round iron tables outside a vintage café looked familiar. Weren’t they of the same style of those portrayed in Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night?

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Loving Vincent

Hiding myself in the corner of the cinema hall, with the lights turned off, I have been thrown into the life Vincent Van Gogh lived in Hague, Paris, Arles and Auvers-sur-Oise more than a century ago. The mind is struggling to follow the plotline; it is lured into every scene that makes the heart tremble. The thoughts are wandering from Starry Night over The Rhone to Café Terrace in Arles on a September night in 1888, and from The Yellow House where Van Gogh shared rooms with his painter friend Paul Gaugin to Wheatfield with Crows, which is believed to have been painted shortly before his tragic death. A story about Vincent is taking shape, slowly, in my mind, and in my heart.

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Waves of life

What is it? The mind is attempting to distinguish the noise. The sound of raindrops hitting the window in a consistent rhythm, it is pouring out there. A few drops falling on my cheeks, I turn away and refuse to close the window properly. I must catch up before the dream turning into fragments. 

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