23 Pork at Mao Jia

Its 12.44 Beijing time. In my apartment at Riversides, Shan Sui, meaning "water" and "mountain". Weather cool, dont see any sun from my study and I dont care, always better
than the usual 35 or 40 degrees, though I dont care about that either- I just slow down.
On my 9th trip since october 17, I slept well and long- the beneficial effect of a two hours delay.
At the exit I had an unexpexted reception of kind people, one of them the habitual driver. I described him earlier and I keep respecting him for the dedicated way he performs his duties.
During the trip I detected new proof. Every 5 minutes he seems to restart. He straigthens his
back and makes that movement atletes show before the start: he shakes his shoulders, makes
fists (one after the other!) and loosens them. And then on for the next stretch of tarmac- very
quiet yesterday. I imitated him and he recognized his habit. Laughed. Then he complimented me with a loss of weight by admiringly putting a flat hand on my stomach. I am not sure I deserved that gentle gesture.
While typing- always with two fingers, and as fast as they can be- I enjoy the tiniest sigaret
I ever smoked. Its called CAPRI and not much bigger than a matchstick. Menthol. Superslim.
From the USA. I got half a package of the lady R who joined me for a businesslunch with A,
the senior account manager of a firm that may help SchoutenChina by opening her nationwide
distibutionchannel.
This meeting took place in Mao Jia. A had made a reservation in a seperate room, not unusual
in Chinese restaurants.

When you carve a dead pork, you first have to force your way through the tough pigskin. After that you will experience a sudden fastening of the speed of your knive, because it glides through
the thick layer of fat. After that you hit the muscles, the flesh.
This three layerd piece of the pig( skin, fat, flesh) was the lifelong delicatesse the chairman, the founder of the Chinese Republic, kept enjoying until his last days.
And that delicatesse was offered to me, guest of honor, in my chair facing the door. And yes
I really liked it. I ate too much there in MaoJia, the restaurant offering food from Hunan, where
the chairman was born. Simple food, rich food. I read somewhere, he caressed this food, also
to honor the simple village life, when times were harsh and heroic.

Just before I left I finished my novel. Gave it to read to Anne, Monique, Carry and Willem. The
book is not about me, but about a 43 year old character living his rich life deepdown in a dutch
polder untill things happen he no longer can control: old pains he cannot longer hide from, fraud
and the loss of ideals. " How can you attach to people. love them who once will leave you, betray
you." Thats not the story, thats the theme.
I placed the story in a polder, resembling the polder I live in Holland: de Bommelerwaard.
Zaltbommel is the main town. Thinking about my diner at MaoJia it comes to my mind
how poor the people uede to be in that polder. The peasant family very often raised a pig. Their only extravagance. Slaugthered the beast just in time for Christmas. I am talking about 90 years ago, when the social revolution in Holland not yet had taken place. Pig food a delicatesse for those who could afford.
I ate far too much from the chairmans delicatesse.
" Why," the elegant R asked.
I could have said:' Out of solidarity with my grandparents and their parents." But that
would have been a lie.
"It was delicious," I said.
"Think of your health." R riposted.
"Next time," I said.
I knew of course, it would take me 3 days to overcome the beneficial but poundsgaining
effect of the chairmans' delicatesse.
How did he manage, I wonder.

22 Spoiled? My father and his aircooled shipengine

I only have to open my eyes, focus and a memory pops up. Now, at this very moment, my father
comes into my mind. Its 11.00 in the dutch morning. Just finished my mails. They almost concerned my 9th trip to China. Taxi will arrive 14.30.
Yesterday I could finish all the officematters and yes: there now is a natural pause in the flow of
work, so I can leave quietly.
Goals in China: meet high ranking officials at the Dutch Embassy, hiring the COO for SchoutenChina ( I mean speaking with 6 apllicants) And have lunches diners with new contacts useful for SchoutenChina.
Outside, my window shows a rippled Lake, whipped by an increasing western wind. All the redwhiteblue flags are ratling at their poles. A couple of sailing boats are fighting the white crested waves. Inside Skyradio softens me up with sweet middle of the road music. Behind my
back on the kitchenette The Senseocoffeeapparatus is screaming at me, but though I crave
for the brown watered drug I am firm: first finish this Blog.

When I cleared the table I sit on, I detected the advertisement Bobbiaan printed from Ebay. It
shows a 5 meter boat. White, shallow, easy. But more important: it is powered by an electromotor. I will buy this one, for the long summernights ahead of me. Noiselessly cruising
the Lake over calm waters heading for the setting sun and staring at the magnificent evening
clouds, pink and rosefingered.

Forty or more years ago our family owned a wooden sailing ship and for reasons of safety and
comfort it needed an auxiliary. Normally a Diesel is installed, deepdown under the floor and always watercooled. Of course: cooled by water. "deepdown under the floor"there is not enough
fresh air to do the cooling.
But my stubborn father decided differently. He bought a second hand VW engine- aircooled and he installed the black monster deepdown in the hull.
It was an excellent engine. It roared like a tiger, gave power like an elephant. The propeler
propelled. Our ship easy made 6 knots. All this however for only 13 minutes. Not that we- my
mother, my 3 brothers or 1 sister- cared about the tropical heat building up inside the ship: the
motor did, overheated like a burning furnace. It just stopped, where ever it felt necessary: in the
middle of a river, while landing, it did what it should do without the requiered cooling: it broke
down.
Not my father however.
After 2 or three of those experiencesdhe started thinking. And yes, he invented the first
working aircooled auxiliary shipengine in the world.
How?
Just by installing pipes from the motor to the backend of the ship. Ans when they got hot too
he folded them in layers of abestos (why not, we are all alive still, my father and mother died very old). It took him 2 months hard work.
It worked. Our boat was named"Swarte Hont" , black dog in english, a pirate name, very appropriate, because when on motor our Black Dog resembled a steamingship with all that
hot air pouring out of the tubes.
Of course there were people who thought my father crazy and we as his childen did not always like that kind of attention. He just laughed.
So here I am looking at that picture of that electrically powered boat, I bought within 5 minutes. Yes, I am spoiled. But warming up at the memory of Hein, my father, I immediately
get some comfort. Yes, I think, in some ways I resemble him: I am at least as crazy.

I will call my electrically powered toy with the only suitable name.
Swarte Hont.

21 Perls and Boris and the Acrobat

The weather is gloomy, I have no other word.
Even the slightly rippled but otherwise calm surface of the Lake cannot seduce me to use an other expression. Grey, tiresome.
Thinking about the state I found myself in most partss of this day I hit upon Frits Perls. He is a may be longforgotten subtop Psychotherapist, long gone, who invented Gestalttherapy.
This branch of therapy, still not mainstream, has a simple theoretical fundament, I will summarize below.
But first I will reveal that while thinking of Frits or Fritz, I dont know, I immediately visualized Boris, the mate who joined me half a year after I founded my Institute- and left 5 years later to start his own practice.
I remember Boris sitting, the way only he could sit, Boeddhalike but
despite his slightly bulging forefront he always kept a very straight back. On the left of his
chair a broken packet of sigarets, on his right side an ashtree and one or two other packs, not yet broken. In his right hand a sigaret and in his very big left fist his lighter, ready to fire.
An excellent trainer, organization developer and therapist just like Fritz. But it was the picture
of Boris sitting in his chair that connected Fritz to him, because in all descriptions of the chainsmoking Perls he also sat there, the same way Boris did his work.
I thought of Perls because one of his maxims that popped up today. It goes this way( I do
it by heart):

I do my thing
You do yours
If we meet each other, it is wonderfull
If not: nothing can be helped.

Such is la condition humain.
The simple lines helped me somehow today. 10 days ago I came back from Beijing. It was
ok, but it took me 8 days to fully land in Holland, until today. I played my role in various
committees and decisionmaking ambiances, according to my environment in an effective way.
But effectiveness and efficiency are different species. I mean, while being effective I lost a
lot of energy to things lost. I had some attacks from the Acrobat, entering my brain with
develish sweetness and it took me many hours and mails etc to scratch her out of the lobes
inside my skull.
Gestalttherapy has a simple paradigm: when you describe a situation, any situation!, you
always express the feelings and pains and trauma's that fill your brain, through indirect means.
So when I described the weather as gloomy grey and tiresome and Fritz would hear me
doing so, he would immediately order me to redescribe and use the word "I" in stead of "the
weather is..."
'Yes, mr Perls: I feel gloomy, tiresome and grey.'
I assure you, I witnessed very heartbreaking and effective therapysessions along this line
of practice, very often followed by relief and catharsis for the person who was in the
centre of the (psychodrama-)session.
Why I am gloomy etc? One reason is the Acrobat lost. But there can be also an other factor
in play. I smoked far and far to much last 20 days. And that does not become me.
But I wonder: why?
I come to Perls again. It is an established fact that this long deceased therapist even at the
age of 80 always was surrounded by the most beautiful female clients. What feelings did
they trigger in in his old but always male heart? And did he maybe smoke to extinguish those
feelings? To put him self in the gloomy desensitized grey state I experienced to day. A state
that resembles a slab of concrete on top of of a pit full of boiling emotions?

All these thoughts brought me after work to write a letter to R. I dont know this good person verywell but she asked me "How about you?" and I expressed how I felt.
And before I entered the House at the Lake I had my bowl of natural salad at Heineke. And in my way home I visited Bobbian and Joyce and had a real sweet talk about how I felt.
"Dont think too much, let things overcome you, dont resist."
"Yes, Joyce."
So I will do give room to chance. Look my feelings right into their face. Stop smoking (again).
I dont like the word ' thing ' in Fritz Perls maxim. "I do my thing." What does "thing"
mean?
But while scolding at this word ("ding"in dutch) I must concede the fact that its time to clarify this question and specify it and apply it to my own life. And I tell you, the first fundamentals (and thats whats all about) are passing not only my frontal lobe but also are filled with the passions mediated by other parts of my brain.
"What do I want to do?'
Is that the right question?
No.
Better is: "to what or whom I am devoting my passion and energy."
Small but significant difference.
But maybe I am already thinking too much.

PS the story Li Xiao the flute player is going to be translated in Chinese and soon will be added
to this Blog

20. Ducks

Yesterday I saw 5 ducks swimming by the landing stage of my House at the Lake. One the mother. 4 children. Fun. The mother jumped towards me and kept
looking at me from only one meter. I coould have made Peking Duck out of her but I am such a nice gentle person. I only her sisters after them being killed by others. gentle me. The weather ok and my sailing match went well. Got completely wet in a thunderstorm, but I went on, reaching the finish 10 out of 30.
I got a killing reaction from a dutch guy on my last Blog. I forgot his name but he wrote to me :
"How dare you even thinking about buying a human being. You are a bad person."
Of course I thought. This man is right. I dont care. But honestly I try to improve myself. So I here solemnely declare that in my next visit to Beijing I will
say "no" to anybody offering me one of those delicious ducks.

19 the heat and the pilotcourses

19. june 24 2211 hs. This afternoon I arrived from Beijing after my 8th visit to this glorious city.
Anne collected me at the airport, looking gorgeous. Had a traditional coffee at the sidebar on the
way to the Parking Lot. In Zaltbommel we had diner at the Verdraagzaamheid, ribeye for me and beef for Anne, to empower herself after the great Lectric party of Yesterday, the party I regret I could not visit. I did my best and also Vera did but I really couldnt redirect my fligth so
I had to stay in Beijing in the night Jan Hein and Sjoerd and hundreds of colleagues of Lectric celibrated the 10th anniversary of Lectric, that daring and good enterprise I co founded 10 years ago. A pity. But thats life...Instead my last nigth in Beijing I had a glorious diner in a
restaurant in the South, having fresh made dumplings- behind the glasswall you could see a dozen hygienical clad girls filling and folding them. After that a long talk outside Starbucks. Sweet.
The last week Beijing was dominated by a deep heat. Happily the Airco in the office could produce an agreable temperature of 27 degrees C. Outside 40 C. In the mornings streets are sprayed with water. Many girls walking with parasols, because they dont want the tan- even using bleaching creme. Through Ad Nederloff I met Rita and she doesnt care about getting a tan. She
introduced me at Yoga, but not the indian one: a blend of tai chi kung fu. So standing before a huge mirror I had to face the factsthat I -though strong- am a very stiff tree, compared with her and her instructorfriend who also could be watched in that same mirrow. Yes it was good, for getting the rest at will and also it was good as a lesson in humility. That graciousness of those women!
The trip was very usefull. Dong Yan and colleagues Xiao, Chelsea, Echo and Shufeng had organized 3 pilotcourses, to test our approach. Completely new to the 2 x 30 and 1x 45 attendants, but highly wanted. by them. Experiential learning of the kind Schouten&Nelissen deliverd, is asked for.Great. Now we can build the courses and bring them to the market: good and at the same time cheap courses associated with the required certificates. And there was a succesful introduction for 28
attendants for our Course Train the Trainer. It was a surprise to experience that attendants
like to be addressed in english, but at the same time we are sure that Chinese trainers are needed. So we train them. The credits for this succes should go to all involved, but especially to
Dong Yan, who "filled"the courses and our trainers Tineke Kanters and Caroline.
To me it was a good trip. I had interviews with candidates for different posts, but no one
suitable. Pity. We decided to make "finding the manager" top priority and that means one in a higher salarysegment. Good.We made a contract with Met Press, the publisher for bringing out in Chinese a selection of books of Thema. Good. But is is my destiny and capability to look ahead and thereare many poroblems to be solved, and they will be solved: finding a top manager, adjusting the marketing plan, highspeed design of courses etc etc. We entered a new phase.

And there is of course California. I asked"what is happiness to you?' to K, a high ranking commercial manager and to C, her Colleague. K: she is is long girl, expressive face. "My family
she said. My husband." Gleaming eyes. But C said: "dont ask that question. When you aware
of that, it certainly is to late-things already are bad." Oh they all do really honor there family. Completely aware of the sacrifices parents made to send the children to school. Parents of 60
experienced the in the west highly applauded Big Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. And Survived. Heroes. As Rita explained: when employing some one, choose the one between 23 and older, because they know what poverty and working mean and from their parents they learned that succes, food, money never is a certainty.

This is what a friend told me. She was going to marry. But 3 months before the fixed date she
discovered that her future husband had a longlasting love relation with another woman. The man had a business with giga cashproblems. And his lover who loved him was rich and helped him out with money. So he went on with that affair. No marriage. Money love killer.

Ad Nederloff told me this and I could check his story by means I wont reveal. "Recently I met a
60 year old friend a gentle man , in need for a a long lasting relationship. A couple of days later I had a meeting with a beautiful 26 year old and explained to her the situation of the friend. I asked her: "would you consider marrying that guy, so much older?"
"Yes, she said, why not. I should of course need some time to get to know him, but
why not'?
And to put a halt to my amazement, Ad confronted me with the researched facts from american studies that arranged marriages last so much longer and are so much more satisfying to both partners. But there is always money involved."

So while writing these lines in my House at the Lake it comes to my mind to write a new Chhinese short story and start it with this line :

Not very long after his sixtieth birthday Peter Nieman decided to buy a Chinese woman and marry her. The words "not very long"need to be specified
of course etc etc

"Remember," I tell my self, "everybody reading these lines will kill you. But before that fatal moment I hope to get the opportunity to utter some last words:......that you never can buy someone nowadays without she buying you....that in Holland- that great merchant country- most marriages are based on this very contract...."
But I dont think my point of view stands a chance. Moreover I first have to finish my novel, some painstaking weeks still...

18 Beijing-Paris rally and Pitt Lindner on happiness

Its Sunday. June 10 21.08 The sun yellow red, more orange than red in a leaden sky. The wind 3 bf from NNE. My window speckled with the many mosquito's that though impressive in their
multitude never are dangerous. They are all born into the deep peaty bottom of the Lake and
suddenly and seemingly from nowhere come up in swarms from the surface to see for first time Light and the same Sun I am now looking at from my House. This afternoon the sailing match was cancelled due to no winds, so I had time to prepare my next trip to Beijing.
Main Goal: hiring further staff.
And with a cup of Senseocoffee in my hand and feeling stiff and tired and content I am wondering: what is Argentina if Argentina is the symbol for happiness.
This morning I observed a young swallow who under the guidance of a parent had her or his first flying lessons. I thought I could see her heart throbbing. A minute of the here and now and I could feel again my heart beat and my warm eyes remembering the first swimming lessons of Marie my daughter: her abundant smile, her upheld head millimeters above the water. Her eagerness to reach theother side of the bassin. Her joy, pride, confidence.
And I realize now my confidence in the whole planning process of today and the feel of being boss of myself. Not disturbed by unnecessary frustrations.
I own nothing, no thing, no person. So I cannot lose anything
But what about love and friendship?
may 26 I had a wholeday trip around Beijing to look for possible other places than Riverside to live.
Boudewijn Heeren and Tony Zhou from Inspiree are the persons who can help a publisher to distribute his books all over China. And in the gentle personal talk we also had, they gave me
a routing, a day later enriched by a nice person I had lunch with, T., a friend of Ad Nederloff.
So I had a tour. While driving me alrong the driver teaches me Chinese. A gentle person, father of an only child. The son nearly finished University. According to Dong Yan the father is an example of the millions and millions of Chinese parents who spend 1/3 of their not too big income to the study of their children. So I visited Long Tan Park in the south. Nancizi and Houhai rep east and north west of the big square And the area of the fragrant hills.
The fragrant hills are in the North East near
the summer Place. Just nature. Boring. The Long tan Park is nice to walk in. It is bordered by
a small villapark in white stucco, but not inspiring. Its a compound. We were not allowed to enter, but the gentle driver gave the good reasons, because in the end one of the watchmen jumped in the backseat and allowed us to visit the neighbourhood. It did not inspire me. There are a lot of those compounds like this one in Beijing, full
of watchmen in semi- military attire. Always saluting and showing you the way, I mean waving their arms in the direction you are already heading for. I once visited a compound especially filled with expats. In the mood I was in, I thought I could see the walls weep.
The other places were full of live. Vendors, small shops, bikes. A lot of tourists also. And also big walls Behind them I guess the big and lush villa's and housing that a person like I like. But impernetratable, if that the right word.
So I am glad I met that nice person that is willing to the place I really look for: a complete
Chinese village in the outskirts of Beijing. Maybe this week.
After 6 hours driving through heavy traffic my Gentle Driver got hungry. I proposed to go to
the Shangri La Hotel to have some food. My friend Bert Kersten was staying there waiting for the start of the Beijing-Paris Rally for classic cars( he himself owns a 1929 Bentley)
My Genle Driver declined the offer. To stupidly expensive he gestured, so we drove around trying to find a normal Chinese restaurant. It took some time because it was 15.00 and due
to the heat most restaurants were closed. But we found one and I had my vegetables.
After that good meal we payed the bill. Costs approximately 2 coffees at the Shangri La.
I was glad to see Bert. We hugged and said goodby to the driver who went with his car to
the backyard to have a nap. Of course I know the outfits like Shangri La, just like you, I guess.
It could be new York or Amsterdam. Huge, a strinquartet, waitresses one shoulder bare, long silk dresses, selected on the same length, smiling. If you forgot the gentle eyes, the genuine kindness, they could easily could stand in for the reception of a up market brothel.
Bert soon would go off for a 16000 km trip through China, Mongolia and Russia up to Paris with not too much comfort along the road (sleeping in small tents) so I granted him the luxury, also because he is always the same gentle man.
He was not the only driver in that Place, there were 130 x 2 of them and not all them passing
by- worn out cocks in a macho role playing act- aroused my sympathy. But Bert attracted the
good people. Not only the actor B who joins him on the 6 week trip. But also an Englisman I
immediately liked for several reasons, but also by the fact he openly and vehemently accused
Blair for High Treason in the Iraq War case. And I joined him fullheartedly with my own target/
the governememt and its coterie in den Haag.
There sat in that carré of sofa´s also a slender guy from Germany, calles Tripp Lidner. I may use his name. He was driving a 100 year old fire brigade car. The Being Paris started 100 years
ago for the first time, so maybe his car.... Anyhow, the man called Tripp just sat there, nipping
his tea, looking at me with clear brown eyes. Kindly provocative.
`So Tripp,´I said. `We were just discussing the subject, can you tell me, what is happiness
to you.
He immediately fired. From his hip.
´My wife,´he said.´
I told him how I felt.
He believed me, he said.
He tossed me his mobile phone.
´Read these two messages. This is she. All the way from my village.´
The first one.
Darling Tripp, I sit in the garden. Alle those flowers. I saw a beautiful dragon fly and immediately thought of you. Love love...
The second one , a minute later.
But darling darling, even without that dragon fly I think of you. Always.

I remember this moment as a sweet present from Tripp to me, the complete stranger to him.

Outside the lake slowly darkening. And I loath the poor philosophy inherent to

the maxim `I f you dont own somebody, you cannot be hurt.`

And hitting the keys of my PC, I cannot say more to certain persons known and yet unkown to me, than this. Please let me be the guest in your life and let me be hurt by you.

But not too much.

17 Whats happiness? Argentine?

I am back in my House at the lLke. Yes, I know I owe myself a detailed description of my stay in Beijng from may 21 up to june 5 but life is so full of impressions. So I will paint them not day by day but in little fragments, in vignets that I associate with my daily experiences of wherever I am. Thats my life I am a keen observer sometimes, but every photograph I make of a particular part of the world always is associated with the so called non-existent or past.
Last night I had a very good sleep. This fact normally does not deserve headlines, but now, at this particular moment it does. Because I did not sleep that good, neither in Beijijng nor here. In Beijing I often could not get the sleep, most of the times for no good reasons. I could blame the
frogconcerts, or that mosquito. But I know this is not the real reason. Normally Morpheus kills
those intruders. But not that time in B.
I once remarked: happiness is not in the brain, but I of course we are not only governed by the feelingparts of the brain, but also by the Cortex. And I guess this Big Thinker that contains
the hidden code of law that governs and governed my life is in a state of transition at the cost
of exhaustion. And ironically only the finding of the right words enlightens this morbid state.
I am talking of course about inefficiency, i.e the loss of energy, and not of ineffectiveness because my days in Beijing were good and succesful and full of new actions. And beautiful moments. For instance the day we spent on the opening of our office in SOHO Beijing. Soon you are able to view a film on it on this Blog. I met new friends. I saw candidates for the positions in the office. I found a publisher for the books of Thema we want to publish in Chinese.
And I drew the line whereever necessary.
Yesterday I participated in a most boring pokergame, stretching and stretching untill I ended my part by taking a too big risk and losing my treasure in 3 seconds. I didnot care. The
host was that nice woman, daughter of a friend. Other friends too, one of them a estate agent who won twice. No problem: brokers always do.
I took a J Daniels and another one. My host forbade me more drinks because I had to drive home in my new Italian car and she wanted me to arrive safely.
It was 02.oo in the morning and my driving style was that of a staggering horse. Suddenly
an VW Golf hooted.
From an olive coloured face, white teeth . A maroccon guy I guessed. Slowly driving alongside
he opened his window. I did the same.
"Hé, man ,"he said,' Are uou drunk?'
"No, no."
"Then you are tired? I can see it."
"Yes, yes."
"Be carefull. A hundred meters further, the police is on the wait.'
I showed him my biggest smile. Borded him again at a traffic light. He pointed at the M I own now for a couple of days.
"Beautiful car."
Yes, I have to admit. But I said.
"I saved for it all my life."
Unnecessary remark: no trace of jealousy, no need for comfort.
"Yes,'he said,'saving is important. Take care." And off he went, reaching the crossroads far a
head of me.
Love is in the air.

This morning start gray and sticky and I started with a coffee at Heineke. I parked the M in
the back and read the paper. The last time I was here I enjoyed the news of Bokito. I couldnt find a follow up. The room was dominated by a group of sturdy dutchmen dissuccing Dutch Affairs. No word about the Yellow Danger. I didnt amaze me. The rapeflowers so beautiful and threatening are out. The grasses took over. And the Poppy's .
After my second cyo I started to read the instruction on the retrieval system of the car. This instrumnet is controlled by GPS and after someone steals the car, the limousine can be traced on the spot.
Henny the owner, in the sailing game also, shook my hand.
"Whats is that?'
I explained.
He started laughing, pressing my shoulder.
"Thats good,"he said,"now they can find you."
He is that small guy who's face looks closed and tightlipped. You can get scared. Wrong. He is a lamb in a wolfe's skin.
In the supermarket I bought my food. An experiment: Pakzoi. Happily enough a lady wanted to inform me, that I have to cook it, or buirn it in a wok. And I bought three pieces of chicory. And with some help from a newly acquired friend I learned to pack, weigh it my self and put
a pricetab on it. It is known that the last emperor of China could not even blow his own nose. had to learn that in a yearlong reeducation. And he seemed to be happy with that learning process. I can imagine.
I stopped my car along the road and I gathered a poppy, just one. How long ago I had one in my hand> I cant remember. The stem a spindle-leg. Needs waxing. The oily red, little bit lines as if there are veins in the flowerleafs. Inside hidden like a treasure a circle of tender pink and old blue spurs.
The landscape is full of them now. A rich country, Holland.