(text from 1999, from a book of stories written for my academy graduation project; spelling & punctuation unchanged)

The view from the kitchen window.

The view from the kitchen window – I’ve been staring at it every day for almost twenty years. I’ve been drawing it and painting it and making photo’s of it. I’m addicted to looking at it even when it’s completely dark and you don’t see a thing. And the kitchen table is standing right near the window, so you can always look outside, it does not matter where you sit.

Because the kitchen itself is so small, the same goes for every sitting or standing spot – you always have the same view that didn’t change at all for years. It is a very quiet place – not many people pass by there and nothing is ever happening, except when the neighbours from the opposite house beat each other up, but that is something I don’t like to look at.

The view doesn’t have any other entertaining values except that it is beautiful and so familiar to me to the point that it gets abstract; quieting and relaxing. That is one of the reasons why the kitchen is my favourite place in the house – I spend most of my time there when I’m at home. The best place for reading or writing, or thinking or talking. And handy as well because I can reach all the necessary objects from the stove, sink and cupboard without getting up from my chair. The best times I there I have at night when everybody is sleeping – all to myself and no obligations – freedom in one word.

That´s when I get the nicest thoughts and the best plans.

KG 2010

I always wanted to have a pet and my parents got me a dog – a Dachshund with a hare lip. It was called Zayats (that means ‘hare’). The dog is very sweet, but that is absolutely no use to me – it chose to ignore me from the very beginning and is devoted to my father with all it’s body and soul (see now, who is the head of the house!). They have the same characters, the same way of walking and they always show how much they love each other.
Then I owned a parrot, which was far too stupid to communicate with. It was an idiot from birth – it spent it’s time staring in the mirror and being moody, so I gave it away to the neighbours  who like to take care of sick ones.
My next choice was for a turtle – a reasonable pet, slow and portable. Anyhow, the dream-turtle never became a reality, instead I found myself in possession of a three-weeks-old grey rat that looked just like an ordinary mouse so Mouse it was called.
My parents started to take care of it from the first minute. They said that such a baby needs a lot of space, attention and fun, and installed it on a kitchen table, where it could always find food and company. Mouse was to sleep in a sugar-bowl – such freedom I was never allowed when I was small. They tried to teach it tricks like appearing out of the bread-basket when we had guests. They took it out to the summer-house to get fresh air and vegetables.
My father believes that everybody should be friends, so he did his best to befriend Mouse with Zayats: he took them out for walks – Mouse riding on the dog’s back trying hard not to fall off.
Then the tragedy came – Zayats’ instincts woke up – he bit the rat when it happened to stroll under it’s nose: Mouse was so small and tender that a slight bite turned out to be fatal. Very sad. Another example of unsuccessful friendship.
My father was so upset, that he blamed me for my incapacity to take care of anybody, myself included.

KG 1998 (better print coming later)

KG 2013

red beet –> bad light

red beet –> better light

KG 2013