Walking to a dead workshop


“My feet are so tired, my brain is so wired
And the clouds are weeping.

Did I hear someone tell a lie?
Did I hear someone’s distant cry?”

(Bob Dylan in Love sick)
Liège (B)

The tower where there never justle a bell

"When the bells justle in the tower
The hollow night amid,
Then on my tongue the taste is sour
Of all I ever did."

(A. Housman, no title, in Additional Poems)
Liège (B)

The relativity view on a busy motorway


“Einstein on the road to the beach”

Liège (B)

Memories of the industry standing in the snow


Liège (B)

In all innocence


“Little Lamb,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft Wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, Merrily,
We welcome in the Year.”

(W. Blake in Spring)
Liège (B)