Talking about death, and the problems I have with death, the truth is: I want more time. Lots of time. Much more than these 70, 80, or 90 years- whatever you’re getting these days; if you’re lucky! Continue reading TO THE NORTH POLE AND BACK
My grandfather was my first death. I was six years old and he’d always been around. We lived in the same village, my grandparents on the outskirts -they were my mum’s parents- and we in the centre.
I loved my granddad deeply, in the way that children do, unconditionally and passionately loyal.
Continue reading MY FIRST DEATH
Why do we all have to die..?
Leonard Cohen. Vera Rubin. David Bowie. Felix Krivin. Zara Hadid. Petr Hájek. Elie Wiesel. My father. Balasaheb Vikhe Patil. Muhammad Ali. Zhao Er-mi. George Michael. Harper Lee. Imre Kertész. John Glenn. El Hortelano. André Courregès. Cecil Howard. Johan Cruyff.
‘If it be your will/ That I speak no more/ And my voice be still/ As it was before/ I will speak no more…’
I learned about the death of Leonard Cohen from D. He’d heard it on the news in France, where he lives. It was a grey day in Amsterdam, rain pouring down on the canals. I’d just woken up, feeling great- despite the summer definitely being over. Continue reading ON THE DEATH OF LEONARD COHEN
The concept of death is hard to comprehend. And of course there are exceptions to death and eternal oblivion. Fame… Being famous! It’s different when you’re famous- or that’s what we like to think.