waiting

after some stations he strumbled out leaning on his walking stick. once out he didn't go on out of the subway. no, he just stood there leaning on his stick looking out to his left and his right.
when the train drove past him I followed him with my eyes and I wondered...
I wondered but as the metro raced through the feble lighted suburb, out of it into the night, I forgot about him and rederected my thoughts to my book.

bla bla bla

en fin de soiree elle charme tout le metrox...

Natura Artis Magistra

la panthere d'Artis,
sans vouloir me montrer sadique, marcher d'un bout a l'autre de sa cage me parait peu original,
en plus je n'avais que 3 secondes sur quinze pour dessiner ce redoutable fauve.

me kingdom for a horse

CATESBY:
Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!
The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger:
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!

KING RICHARD III:
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

CATESBY:
fuck off!!

Peter

And then he saw it, a patch of feeble light shone through the clouds onto the concourse.
He stood there for two seconds stunned by what he saw. The light brightened until it lighted the entire street and further it went reflecting on the glass windows. Peter regained his speech and with a loud "AAHA!" he ran forward out of the alleyway.
"and where the fuck have you been?!" he yelled out at the blinding sun. People passing by turned their faces away from the sun and they directed their attention to the source of the yelling. After frowning at peter they went onwards blocking the sunlight with their hands to see properly. But Peter's tyranny against the sun went on.
After a minute the sun vanished behind a giant grey cloud, and a cold breeze ran through Peter's black hair. He looked up at the darkening sky and felt the first tiny drop onto his nose. Everyone took out their umbrella's and quickened their steps.
But while the rain tickled down, peter just stood there, all his anger gone. All his hope washed away by the cold unforgivable rain.

brussels

bored of drawing my sisters I drew the only living soul withing propper drawing range; me. it was not really a propper range as I couldn't see my own face but like most people I kinda know what my own face looks like so on I went. this was the result.
as we drove in the good old peugeot we got stuck in some bad bad traffic. because of the heavy rain that fell down on brussels the past few days, some of the tunnels running through the city were full of water. what caused the governement to think it would be a good idea to rederect them to the huge aquaduct running over brussels, which only had half of its motorways because three workmen were doing stuff to the road. so there were like four motorways on the place of two.

ghost, at last...

during my third year of college I was bored a lot I quess. I filled my books with drawings about this kind of superhero called "Ghost". ghost is an outlaw but working for the greater good. he archieves what the highest politicians don't, as there always shoving bullshit around the table like dungbeetles.
ghost always has this phantom-like hat over his head. it makes him look a bit like a cu clux clan member but he's just a ghost. now people obviously want to know who he is with all the murder and action he brings. here are some of their speculations.
i'm thinking about uploading the entire "ghost"...

would this be a good hand? (again)

let me in

chateau de montcornet en ardennes

check it out people, if you want.

LD and me on top

LD on top,
mysterious and daring.
what to say I don't know
but what to draw I drew.

me on top
eating a croisant, looking over the grocery-bag-loaded people.
drinking the energy stuffed beverage, staring at the grafity.
what to say I don't know.

pinkelen

I never expected that, I thought it would be some kind of german fun thing movie or whatever. but westerbaan chose to do a game we hadn't done since primary; pinkelen. reluctant and amused we began drumming our fingers on the schooldesks.
westerbaan yelled supposedly confusing commands but we were tougher than he thought. after a full half hour of "hol", "bol", "commando hol" I was out. a few die hards still were in the game but westerbaan gave up and said good-bye...

0.10

but when you'd sit at the table fronting the desk, you just might get some concentration problems...