Office corridors with sliding glass doors are tricky. You’re gazing into the deep when all of a sudden somebody slides in next to you. Or when the gaze is even more intense, they’re just there

It has sunk in that I’m leaving my appartement and with it 5 years of bachelor-style living. Boxes hold my life till saturday, when The New Life starts. I’m looking foward to the big open spaces, being closer to Freya. It’s just that I’m bad with ending phases. Will the next tenant take care of my ivy? Or do I try to move it last minute? Will the fridge give me a hard time letting go (of the ice), dripping as to hammer it in? Bah, transitions.

In Belgium, we speak of a heat-wave when temperatures reach 25 degrees for 5 consecutive days, of which 3 at least 30. In practice, I found it hard to speak at all during the last 5 days. A storm saved the night 2 days ago. I lay on my couch in the living-room; my bed under the roof was smoldering. Wind fooled me into believing I would be able to sleep this night. But even when I opened cupboards to get clothes the next morning, they breathed heat. My life is soaked in heat.

Another great reason to keep writing here: friends from the days of yore, or in this case IMEC, who can read up on me and be inspired to e-mail. I miss the whole bunch like crazy, colleagues mean so much on the work-floor. Good luck defending that title, doctor Natasja. Which would make for a great movie-title by the way. Let it roll, Russian ‘r’, Doctorrrr natasja. That’s it.

We’re all hooked on Lost slightly less than we ridicule each episode after seeing it. At least, that’s what I do during lunch at work. On the other side of the Atlantic, people seem to prefer spawning everything-theories or anti-movements.
Perhaps when scientists formulate a breakthrough quantum mechanics Theory Of Everything that it’ll explain Lost in the same breath.