Category Archives: Holland
Here’s to people and their things. Here’s to not liking sports and to nose piercings, to back tattoos and bro tanks, to longboards, to reading the newspaper each morning with a cup of coffee.
Or maybe, there’s liberation to being in limbo—for a brief time, I’m nowhere. I’m placeless. I’m just part of the mass of humanity that’s moving from one space to another and back again.
But the sun comes out and doughnuts exist and there’s a one-eyed cat who likes to roam the school grounds and often visits my window. This happens, too.
The dancers separate into groups of eight and begin the dance. There’s nothing quite like the sound of hundreds of wooden shoes clomping along the asphalt in rhythm. Or the semblance of rhythm.