i keep asking myself, is this now the dramatic origin story that will turn me into a super villain?

neem het maar aan van een of andere oude witte man die voor zijn boekenkast over zijn brilletje heen kijkt

inconsequential chatter on how things were just now and how things will be in a little bit

and everybody goes: “playbook, playbook… mmmm, i wanna use the word “playbook”

i was consumed by so much old white dutch man energy i could only feel the people actually on the stage were a bit too performative

voor de mensen die de art nouveau periode nog niet achter zich kunnen laten

belgium, the perfect place to act as a time traveler returning to the present, slowly realising something went very very wrong and they must go back to fix it

just feeling a bit nostalgic for the holocene

a nice man on the telephone told me it had to do with my hippocampus

er was een kans op mijn broertje in de vroege naavond

it’s not like we had an international council of vegans and decided we like alt-j

my coworker was muted, but i liked it better that way, so i didn’t say anything

back when i asked chatgpt for the most efficient way to process grief

almost panic bought a yearly subscription for a breathing app

toch jammer dat levensgrote rode letters op kale betonnen gebouwen zo in het communistische verdomhoekje zijn gekomen