Tagged: writing

When in doubt…

I really feel I should write about something. I really do. Just to get a sense of purpose as I drag my carcass along the summer days. So far, my bucket list is far from over, but my batteries are almost fully charged.

Heat. That’s what cities mean to me. The heat in this town is very dusty. It is as if the earth sweats dust as the cars recklessly roll by in the Sun. The inevitable gathering of dark clouds, the disgusting smell of rain as it washes the heat, and dust, and rash, leaving giant holes in the tarmac, just like the post-acne scars. To cope with this everlasting issue, the authorities built roundabouts and created new intersections in order to make the traffic smoother.

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A visit to Anne Frank Huis

As I am desperately trying to keep up with my new-found blog, and as I am having so much time to just sit and do nothing, it’s becoming more and more difficult to write even the shortest of sentences. I almost feel bad about not doing anything (talking about panopticism here) therefore, I have to do something.

And what better way than writing some lame posts? Read on.

About a week ago or so, I have decided to visit Anne Frank’s house. For those of you who are not yet acquainted with Anne Frank, she was a small Jewish girl who went into hiding for two years along with her family and some other family friends/relatives. If memory serves, there were 8 people in total.

And so, while hiding from the Germans in World War II, Anne Frank, a girl of only 13 years old, started a journal depicting her daily experience. Ranging from themes such as social and cultural identity to sexuality, Anne Frank’s journal is a strong piece of writing, especially for a girl her age. Months before the war ended, she and her family were captured during a morning raid, and sent to the concentration camps. Only her father, Otto Frank, survived.

It is easily understandable that her diary is a remarkable piece because, like many others, it offers a more hands-on, often romanticized image of what it meant to live in such horrific conditions. And if, like me, you believe that reading a book is not enough to fully understand its dimensions, being able to visit and experience a small part of Anne Frank’s biography is nothing short of spectacular.

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