Tag Archives: Control

The Redeemer

When the earth no longer knew what to do with mankind, she decided to release them into space. She didn’t feel particularly proud of her move, but said to herself that it was better this way.


John the Baker, floating in outer space, looked at the earth from a distance. Millions of others were serenely drifting into the darkness with him. They looked like many coloured needle points from here. He tried to recognize friends or family.

‘Hey!’ Yelled a man in colourful robes at John from a distance. ‘Hey you there, mister Bakerman. John, was it? I remember you had excellent cookies!’
John the Baker gave him a single piercing look, then looked the other way.
‘We should stick together, you know.’ Said the colourfully clad man, who was managing somehow to move himself in John’s direction, his clothes hovering behind him. ‘The situation is bad enough as it is…’ he kept silent for a while. ‘do you know why she did it?’

John the Baker still tried his best not to give the man any attention. He looked back at the others. They were helplessly gaining more and more distance from what was once their home. It now seemed like an enormous blue orb, hanging in a vast, uncanny infinity of absolutely nothing. Like everyone else. In the distance, he recognized one of his old class mates, with equally little control over her movement as himself. Then he looked back at the big, blue earth. The sight did not comfort him.

‘How do you do that?’ John asked the man in colour.
‘Do what?’
‘Steer your way’
‘Steer my way?’
‘Yes, how do you manage to float in my direction?’
‘How do I manage?’
‘For gods sake, explain me how you do it, hippyman! You’re deciding on your direction’
‘Do you think I want to drift away from the earth?’
‘Look, right now, all I think is that I don’t know what to think, and that I want to get away from you. Do you think you can help me with that?’
‘The earth has expelled me as much as you. I’m not in control at all’
‘But you manage to adjust your direction!’
‘It may seem that way, Bakerman, but I’m really just floating along’
‘Hey, you know what?’ said John, who had a bright idea. ‘We could push ourselves off each other, and then both go in a new direction.’
‘Well I suppose we could’ answered the other ‘but you haven’t answered my question yet.’
‘Which question?’
‘Why do you think she did it’
‘Who did what?’
‘The earth, Bakerman. Why did she release us into space?’
‘What kind of question is that? There’s some kind of physical explanation for this…’
‘Look around you, John,’ answered the man. do you see any cows around? Pigs? Any fish? Birds? They’re not here. Nor are there plants or stones or any material except for the umbrella’s and the suitcases people were carrying.’ He grabbed an apple out of space and took a bite of it.
‘It’s just humans. And there’s a lot of them. I’m guessing all… We were released. Purposefully.’
‘Well maybe it didn’t like us anymore, then’ answered John.
‘That’s what I think! We were too disrespectful with her, and now she let us go. John was now close enough to grab the colourful man’s robe, and pulled him in.
‘Look, Hippyman, I have absolutely no intention to be stuck here in space with your happy face or your wild theories after losing everything I had. I honestly don’t care why this is happening, but it needs to stop. I am going back’. With that, he decidedly kicked the man off into the darkness, giving himself momentum back to earth.


Earth was, indeed, relieved by the sight of all humans floating in open space. For one thing, she deserved some free time from their constant, demanding presence. If she’d ever miss them, she could always decide to evolve some new ones out of the few remaining monkeys. She’d make them smaller next time. Maybe evolve them from the squirrel monkey. That way, they’d probably not consider hunting down lions or elephants, and they would need smaller houses, so they’d leave more for the others. They’d survive for a week on a chicken’s egg. Yes. That would work. She wondered why she didn’t think of that before.

She would miss them. Humans had by far been the most entertaining species around since the giant dragonfly. Their constant running around in anxiety, their little airplanes flying back and forth, their crazy little inventions, the way they tried to control each other with them, their self-proclaimed independence had all kept her warm inside for many centuries. For a long time, she expected all that to be harmless. It had recently got completely out of hand. The digging started to hurt, and their constant burning of everything became a menace to the others. Tigers had already been complaining about them for years, but when even the birds and the ants came home angry, she was forced to draw her conclusions. Humans had to go.

And it seemed to her that they were far better off in space. Flying was after all what they wanted, right? They could do it all the time now, and they did not need to worry about digging up anything first. They could constantly chill in the sun, had no more weight to carry or bills to pay, had no more responsibilities to carry or wars to fight. All of that was gone for them now. No, she didn’t doubt that out there, these people would find the redemption they deserved.


When, after a long flight back to the ground, John finally hit the earth again, he bounced back from it as if nothing had happened. There simply was no more attraction. He grabbed a far reaching branch. It ripped.

John had by now had some time to ponder what the hippyman had asked him. He didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve this. A lifetime of bread baking. Day in day out. Did he feed Nazis without knowing? Did he accept the money of manipulative traders? Unethical judges? But drifting away from the earth for a second time, he could not see any humans left behind. He understood he shouldn’t take the action personally. And yet he felt betrayed.

The floating itself was quite a thrilling experience. John never expected to be able to see the earth slowly gain distance below him this way. The sky was clear, and the tickling sensation of air passing by his ear was in fact quite pleasant. Moving his limbs didn’t cost him any effort. And okay, he was unable to steer himself in any direction, but where did he really have to go? Seeing the horizon slowly get rounder and rounder had something magical about it. Perhaps it was okay this way.

‘Watch out!’
He saw a woman in a dark green woman’s suit comet down from above. It seemed that their courses would cross somewhere ahead.
‘What can I do?’ Yelled John.
‘I don’t know!’
‘I’ll grab you!’ Yelled John.
‘No!’ she screamed back in slight panic.
Some seconds later, the woman’s leg crushed into Johns diaphragm. He choked. Throwing his arms around the leg, he got a hold of it and gulped. Her leg moved as if she wanted to get rid of him. Slowly revolving, they drifted in a new, common direction.
‘Let me go!’ she screamed. ‘I’m going back to earth!’
‘I just was there’ John answered. ‘you bounce against the surface and float back into the sky’
‘I’ll grab a tree’
‘Tried that, the branch broke’. He held the branch in front of her face, holding her leg only with one arm now.
‘Mine won’t’
‘It’s a thick branch, see?’ John said, and tried to catch a bypassing piece of chocolate with it.
‘Let me go!’ The woman yelled.
‘There is no-one down there.’
‘How would you know? You bounced back’ she said. Then she pushed and kicked herself loose, projecting John further into space.

In the black distance above him floated a group of people holding on together. They were shaped like a big ball. He heard some babbling from their direction. John couldn’t make out if they were partying or fighting. The ball moved awkwardly, a discharged, clumsy blob. Perhaps he could find a way to join them. He hit his branch against a briefcase to his left. It redirected him.


When the earth saw more people return, she created thermal columns to push them back. Her position was clear. No more humans, not even those who seemed okay. They’d multiply and turn into disaster. Blowing the returnees away perfectly supported that stance. Good. It was time to hang back, relax and enjoy the rest.


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On Reincarnation

People usually assume that I believe in reincarnation. I don’t. I believe reincarnation is a hopeful thought that propagates itself through the noosphere, fuelled by the fear of disappearance of whatever people believe to be themselves.

Reincarnation presumes incarnation and excarnation of an individual spirit in a body. To me, there’s no sharp separation between the two. That is not to say that I don’t believe in ghosts, past life memories, visions of the future or out-of-body experiences, but I interpret them differently. My outlook on space, time and life differ, I believe, from the status quo of, let’s call it Western Reincarnation Theory. I think it’s an interesting topic, so I’ll try to explain my point of view here, starting with some examples.

Let’s start with ghosts, they’re one of the trickiest subjects. Haunted houses, dead people walking or even just the feeling that something heavy is trying to tell you something, but you can’t quite catch what it is. Some perceive it, others don’t. To me, ghosts are a charge, released by a living person during their lifetime. It can be mental, emotional or spiritual, so let’s just call it a psychosomatic charge. Imagine Lonely Jack, who constantly sits in his living room, complaining to himself about the woman he never had, the job he missed and the choices he never made. I believe this guy can leave a footprint on his living room for as long as he’s alive. Then, once he’s dead, new inhabitants could still perceive this footprint as a ghost.

Would that footprint be self-conscious? One might ask. My answer would be: only to the extent to which the complaining is self-conscious, which is not that much at all. I don’t believe that the charge is Lonely Jack himself, I’d say it’s what he’s left behind. Then again, I do believe it is possible to send extracts of awareness into, for example, the furniture we possess, and make it look back at you. Or at another, when you’re not around. We can charge our surroundings with thoughts the way our surroundings can charge us with thoughts. Thus, some parts of us can live on. If others interact with those they empower them, and the bits of us empower those who interact.

Another typical proof for reincarnation and the separation between body and soul is the memory of past lives. The reasoning: since I experienced being in the past, apparently “I” have lived past lives. I value the occurrence of such experiences, but they don’t necessarily point to reincarnation. I see them as bridges between eras. Between lives if you will. Like meeting someone in the tram, but different. Sometimes, psychosomatic charges find their way through “wormholes” in such a strength that they invoke the “I” sensation upon the perceiver. To me, they really are just messages from the past with relevance for the listener of today. Think about it this way: you were a different person as a kid, but the aspect of “I” hasn’t changed. Ask the oldest person you know about this, and he or she will tell you there’s no difference between being old and being young. Nevertheless, all molecules have alternated time after time, lessons have been learned and forgotten, and the body has evolved and worn out. Throughout a single lifetime, we are many different people, but we don’t perceive it that way. Then why is it so hard to believe that temporarily being a different person would feel differently than being yourself?

The topic of future visions is similar. I believe that the general consensus there is that they are impossible, yet if they occur, they pass through the spirit world , mediated by beings who reside there because they have reincarnated many times. I believe the moment or vision that is foreseen is simply very psychosomatically charged, and therefore radiates back in time. Perhaps the meaning gives the charge, and the need for meaning on the other side the attraction. Metaphysical pressure differences, so to speak.

Out of body experiences? To me they are instants of high psychosomatic charge in the body, where the mind bridges space in the same way as it could bridge time. The fact that the people see and hear things in this different space, I believe, is a way for the mind to accommodate itself when away from the body. But I still think the phenomenon is powered by the life force inside the body of the one who perceives it as “him or herself being out of his or her body”.

So, if not in life after death, what do I believe in? I believe that there’s only one core soul, which is hidden deep inside all of us. Time, space and basically all rules an limits we take for granted are expressions of that soul. I think it created them all for fun. So are our bodies. Without our bodies, we would just be that one soul, undivided and forever, free from the illusions of existence we’ve created all around us. We are borrowing our bodies, our spirits and our minds from this big shared illusion, and when we die we give what we borrowed back.

Don’t ask me how that would feel by the way, I wouldn’t know.

Wielding Attention

Do you own your attention? Do I have it? Are you giving it to this text? Am I luring it?

I’m on the final two pages of my booklet. The first text, ‘Revolution’ was written in 2012. I kept it close for all that time. These papers have grown dear to me. They are turning from a living presence in my life into an artifact on a shelf. End of an era. To make our final union count, I’d like to write on a subject that matters.

Attention is our most intimate tool of perception. Think about it. A nagging pain in your knee disappears if you have a good meal. Worldly troubles fade when we fall in love. An ugly face turns beautiful once we get to know the person behind it. Our attention, more than anything else, determines who we are. And yet we are so unaware of it. So limited in our capacity to use it.

Knowledge. Beliefs. Habits. Patterns the attention follows over and over again. Until bolts of insight pierce them. Seduce the attention to flow over their borders, see them from another side. Some patterns of belief do never crack. Dissolve, at most, when their container treads the grave.

Can you watch your attention? Can you see where it goes? Can you direct it? Redirect it to a place it never went before?

If I’m frustrated in life, it is because I see how many people are not free. And don’t want to be, either. Most believe they already are. There are so few who dedicate themselves to their attention. So many just wave it around, letting it spill on places where others do before them. People in the modern world waste so much of their precious, limited attention on worthless things. If I call myself a freedom activist, it is because even if I don’t know how, I need to break that chain.

Whether something is painful or beautiful, attention will see it. Jew, muslim, atheist? Attention will be with you. We blame ourselves for looking at midgets on the street. Our attention did not judge. It just travelled, as it would, if we didn’t pull that leash. ‘Stay away from that midget’. ‘Run from the weak’. If we let it be, our attention will go where it is needed.

By giving attention to the world around, senses sharpen. They become receptive. If you give attention to your garden, it will flourish. By listening to another with care, two souls will shine brighter. Attention is our pathway to bring the world to life.

Do you sometimes hold your attention in your mind’s hands? Pet it gently? Does it stay with you?

By giving my heart to this booklet one last time, I imbue it, one last time with a desire that does not sleep. I see the scratches of my previous words, I feel my booklet push my pen, I see the black ink stick here, on this paper, for as long as it will. From a far away conceptual world, I bring down images, experiences, meaning which, when I close it, will keep living as a part of me. I try, I have to try, to testify of this potential. It’s an urge that reveals itself in the interaction with this last page.

Of course, attention is meaningless. It’s a concept, like all others. Elusive, uncontrollable. Tell another he is not free, and he’ll present to you his freedom to hit you in the face. You’re a prisoner of your own mind. Hit me. But break the wall between our cells. I want them to crumble.

Have you cleaned your attention today? Thanked it? Let it wander for a bit? Did you follow? Did it come back to you? Did it bring you something?

My last words in this booklet, better make them count. A final kiss. A final breath of us together. In a few short lines, can I still imbue it with something meaningful?

How much charge can you contain before the charge contains you? How much pain do you need, before you accept this responsibility?

Do you charge your attention with love?


In the series of new names for unspoken emotions, I´d like to discuss breathshake. Breathshake is what it sounds like, a deep shaking of the breath that interferes with the actual breathing. It comes together with a pulsating fear of the loss of life, possibly that fundamental one. In fact, I´d challenge you with the thought that breathshake is a pulsating appearance of life out of a state where it is not. Appearance of emotion too. It´s probably the most terrifying fast emotion I know.

The obvious pathway to the experience of breathshake is running out of air. You can do this by not stopping with breathing out, going very deep into the water or doing sports while breathing far below your natural rhythm. The first option is probably safest. In these cases, my diaphragm starts contracting and I have the sensation of being cut off. The thought “this situation is eternal” forces itself upon me. You could call it fear of death, but I think it is a fear of never getting access to life anymore. While silence is present, a feverish tingly cloud dwells up in my upper body. I feel sweat emerge from several spots. I sense that the feeling could subdue me from the back of my neck and shut off my awareness. It never has.

Lighter forms of breathshake can occur without that I run out of air. An interesting thing that can trigger this for me is the tought of not receiving attention from a person I love. It can also happen in conversations where I feel incapable of standing up for myself the way I think I deserve. It is as if the conversation partner suppresses my self-perceived value and does not recognize my true character, or whatever it is inside me that needs to be appreciated at that moment. The parallel with being cut off from oxygen is interesting, as if human attention also is a substance we need.

The pulsating character of breathshake delivers a remarkable alteration of states of mind which reveals parts of myself to me. Fuelled with panic, short, shallow gulps of breath try to resolve the feeling of sinking away into a swamp. That experience alternates a state of tranquility and acceptance, as if the end is already there. This tranquility eventually takes over and allows my breath to deepen again. All of it happens quite quickly.

Breathshake relativizes my concerns. It can release some tensions, but it also makes me aware of my incapacity to be fully in control of myself. I am aware again that somewhere deep inside me lingers a deep desire for taking part that can become stronger than myself. The thought is humbling, but slightly discomforting too.


Walking through the Flevopark I saw this scene and took a picture of it. It shows a tree that has fallen down, lifting its roots in the process. The roots have ripped along a mat of soil from the ground, revealing disturbingly well arranged bricks. The tree, no longer standing, is now growing branches from its trunk. Out of the view jump an awfull lot of questions and speculations into my mind.

One might ask why the tree fell over, since it doesn’t seem too heavy, but you’d immediately answer: because as you can see, it barely has roots. True, but why is that? It seems obvious at first: it could not grow roots because of those bricks. Then again, why did it not simply reach through, disorganize them, and find its stability deeper down? Those little seedlings below sure didn’t have a problem with that. Well, one could answer, it did not root deeply because it was positioned at the height of the water and it did not need to look any further. In which case the bricks may have nothing to do with the downfall whatsoever.

What are those bricks doing there, anyway? They can’t be there for long yet, because they’d have had too much time to sink away or lose their structure. But someone arranged them there deliberately. Why? Surely not to support the establishment of the vegetation? Are those bricks under the entire park? And what are they lying on? Sand? Concrete?

Will the tree survive, now that it has claimed a bigger land? Will the branches form new stems, and will the stem grow new roots? Was this all part of its plan? I doubt it. Even though I admire the trees courage to keep growing after this disaster, I suspect the water will quickly suck its way through. It is probably rotting already, on its way to be pulp in a few years.

So what are we looking at here? Is this humans millionth failed attempt to do something constructive with nature? Is this a painful proof of how we don’t even manage to keep our city parks in one piece? Is it a millionth tragically failed attempt of nature to make something out of our ridiculous inventions?

Or is this a success story and am I missing out on something essential? If you have a clue, please let me know.

Five reasons why this amazing post will absolutely blow your mind

1. It has numbers
The human mind loves numbers. Indeed scientists have shown that using numbers increases your credibility by 86%. It has to do with the sense of structure they convey. In these speedy chaotic times, providing your audience with bite-sized chunks of text is an act of compassion, and if you announce it in the title, that increases the likelihood of people clicking on it. The number five in this title has a mystical connotation, which goes well with the theme of this blog. It makes a person wonder.

2. It was written in English
English is one of the most popular languages on the globe. The fact that this text is written in that language, means that you can read it. It would have been possible that I could only speak Swahili. That would have drastically impeded your capacity to do something useful with this amazing piece of text, which would have dramatically decreased its awesomeness. Or I could have written it in a language I made up, but that would not have helped either. So here you are, ready to read point 3.

3. It has a joke in it
People love jokes and laughing regularly will increase your lifetime with 16%. Here it comes.

Why don’t Insects go to church? Because they’re in sects.

Did you laugh? I hope you did.

4. It’s informative
Though not all facts in the article may be entirely accurate, the underlying flow of ideas behaves according to the laws of some kind of logic. People may learn something new when reading it. Learning new things is a good training for the human intellect.

5. It saves the internet
People often list top-down global internet regulations as the top threat to internet freedom. They may be right that it is.

What I see a lot lately, is that titles such as the one of this post a spread better than lots of others. They are smart because they speak to people in a certain way. They persuade the mind to click. And the more something is clicked, the higher up it gets in the rankings.

Such titles are a result of long studies of our minds. Companies and individuals now know how to attract peoples attention with random bullshit. Humans will soon get bored by “will blow your mind”, and it will be replaced by some other, even smarter bait sentence, which will then spread again. This way, we humans flood the internet with contentless crap, making it harder and harder for everyone to find reliable information.

This pattern of mindless clicking should to be made explicit. By becoming aware of such tricks, we can release ourselves from its grip.

Happiness engineers

If you work at Google nowadays you eat the healthiest food, work out and take naps whenever necessary. Your bosses will avoid conflict situations for you, encourage you to meditate and do whatever else is in their capacity to keep you as an individual happy. Why? When you are happy, your products are better.

In some advanced farms, cows are being trained to choose the timing of their milking by themselves. The machines they use for this system measure milking frequency and milk quality for every cow individually, and continuously adapt the cow’s diet to make her milk as nutritious as possible. The philosophy: every cow has innate needs satisfying those results in happiness and great milk. Such farms save human labour hours because no one has to force the poor animals into milking machines.

Have you ever heard of Plant Lab? This organization advocates that plants don’t enjoy growing in nature at all. The constant combat for light and nutrients and the irregularity of the weather make them stressed and weak. After long-lasting experiments, they have concluded that plants prefer stable, controlled conditions with purple light, the perfect amount of nutrients and a warm gentle breeze . In their arrangement, plants grow faster, are more nutritious and are more resistant to bugs. In fact, their defence systems become so effective, that if you take a seedling out of Plant Lab into the field, you don’t need to add pesticides for a whole month.

These are just three examples of how the performance of living beings is being optimized with support of knowledge and technology.  By paying more attention to the individual wants and needs, providing not more than the necessary, the boss spends less and gains more. The workers are happy. That’s a win-win, right?

Something in that construct itches me, but it’s not easy to place. Perhaps it is the fact that it emerges out of the industrial paradigm, out of the reductionist idea of beings as objects with on/off switches. By taking the experience of this being into account, by listening to it, one respects it in a different way. The reductionist paradigm meets the holistic paradigm, lifting society to an unprecedented state of enlightenment.

I haven’t convinced myself yet. Is it the idea of domineering? By giving someone precisely what he wants, one can control him entirely and use his energy at will. It increases the power of industry owners and mankind in general to a new level that can become scary if the power is in the wrong hands. Then again, if need satisfaction becomes the status quo, the owners are replaceable.

What itches me most, I think, is the fact that over my lifetime, I have learned to appreciate adventure and uncertainty. I have learned that longing for something for a while can deepen satisfaction in life. Perhaps I am afraid that if this trend continues and the emotional turbulence stabilizes, we will forget the beauty of suffering. Yet we luxuriant people have already long forgotten that.

I might just be old fashioned.

Sacred Democracy

It’s interesting to see that most people defend democracy while they know quite well that the winning parties are the ones with most of the money and the strongest organizational capital. Most citizens today are aware that these parties are indoctrinating them with their repetitive presence through posters and slogans, yet we still vote for them.

Democracy was the elite answer to the French Revolution. It was introduced to keep the angry mob satisfied with the illusion that they were in control. At the time, the new regime proved their own dishonesty by their increasing suppressive character, releasing the public anger once again a few decades later. Things have calmed down since then, but does that justify our obsessive idealization of the democratic system?

Surely, the destiny of our species has long been bigger than the individuals who courageously put themselves in centre of the battle fields, hasn’t it? Then what is it we believe to attain when we collectively put our cross on the piece of paper that was given to us by the people whose names are written on it?

In a recent text, subconscious stakes, I tried to show the importance of deepening our self-knowledge in decision-making processes. Politicians, in their public debate, exercise the opposite. Their stake is their party, but if you take an entire political program, it’s unlikely that all members fully agree with it. Regardless of inner disagreements, they’re trained to defend it. They have to stand for a static cloud of ideas, while, particularly in these versatile times, change of personal preference is only natural. There has to be subconscious friction which troubles decision makers’ views.

I think my point here is that the movements of the tides are not in our command. To be honest, I believe that the big political fields can be steered only by those who deeply choose for the new direction. And they will have their impact whether they are part of the theater or not. If we want to feel in control, we should do our best to stay close to our dearest motivations and use whatever talent we have to push in that direction. Not just our vote. That part wasn’t even credible in the eighteenth century.


We curse the spies. N.S.A: the evil-doers. But we have ourselves to blame.

If you were given the choice, would you rather be safe or be free? Security, the absence of fear. Edward Snowden wants mankind to be free, and chooses life in exile. And fame.

Obama’s response: the US spy agency has prevented over thirty terrorist attacks in Germany alone, just by overhearing our phone calls, and reading our e-mails. We should be grateful.

I have personally never feared terrorist attacks, even now that I live in the capital of The Netherlands (who joined the wars in the Middle East). They are too helter skelter to fear, really. And their scale is too small. Almost like natural disasters; hitting merely when they hit. But we humans would like to control everything. If, of the six billion people around, one wants to wreak havoc, is that a valid reason to spy on all? And what if there are a thousand criminals? How many people’s privacy have the same value as another person’s life? What if it’s your life?

There are many sides to this issue. Say it works. Say you can truly prevent terrorist events in this way, does that resolve the problems that motivate these people to attacks? How about this one: if government agencies can see us pick our noses while holding our genitals, then who else can? Or this: where will this stop? Are we heading to Orwell’s ’84? Will we have to justify every dialogue one day? To whom?

Once again, the human nature has been tempted, and once again, it has fallen into the trap of curiosity. Instead of addressing important questions in a timely debate about cyber ethics, most media and the mob blame the bad guys for doing what they do. What many people fail to see, is that the access to our privacy is a vital property of the global network we are building.

It is the purpose of telecommunication to provide access. Using this medium means being heard on a larger scale. We are bringing our self-image to the surface for all others to admire, but when indeed we are seen, we start to scream. Whether it is the government who hears you, or your parents, or a group of obscure individuals who are up to no good, you are the one who gives them this chance. Internet without spies is like friendship without conflict.

We are entering a time in which transparency has a different meaning than it had before. Instead of moaning, be aware of it next time you plug your soul in.

On a bench in the park

“Don’t I know you?” I ask the man on the bench. “Well you look familiar, aren’t you the artist who worked in Osdorp?” He answers. “No, but I helped him.”

He’s a small, bold, North African fellow. His face has dwarf attributes, but he has no beard. It is a beautiful day in the Rembrandtpark, where I’m taking pictures for a one month taking litter research. It doesn’t take long before he tells me that his father died a few weeks ago. When he asks what I do, I tell him that I’m looking for work.

“We should be grateful for what we have. Nowadays people in the top believe that they have got there by themselves. People believe that they own everything, that they can control nature. But who has given them nature? Did you see, with the crisis? Many millionaires who thought they were safe, suddenly lost everything. God gives you everything and he could take it away just as quickly.”

He tells me that the Qur’an and the Bible essentially talk about the same thing. “But the New Testament is nonsense. How can Jesus be the son of God? God is too big to have mortal children! These books are not written by God, they were written by prophets. God is to big to write books!” I’d like to recommend him to read the Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy, but I don’t want to brutally interrupt his stream of words.

“Hell is worse than you can imagine. One tiny little bit of hellflame” he makes a spark sized shape with his fingers “would burn the whole earth! And heaven! That is so incredibly beautiful, man, you cannot even think of it” I’m getting the association of a little boy who is full of his new toy. “The Angels there are so big… One has a sword that is bigger than the earth! And it’s good that we don’t see them, too. We’d go insane! If one angel would live among us on earth, all men would abandon their women and go after her!”

After about twenty minutes, I manage to detach and proceed. Intriguing kind, the religious.