Wednesday, 31 December 2014

2015 almost loaded...

2014 is almost done and in a few moments 2015 will begin. Be careful with the fireworks. Until next year...



Tuesday, 30 December 2014

Kissing again

In an interview with William Cane, author of “The Art of Kissing”: Women’s favourite spot to be kissed, other than the mouth, is the neck. Ninety-six percent of women reported that they like neck kisses, while only about 10% of men do, so a guy will not even believe that a girl likes being kissed on the neck because it doesn’t really do anything for him. 

It is just a question of having the patience to find the right spots...

Monday, 29 December 2014

First Snow

In honour of the first snow yesterday in the Netherlands, a lovely poem for a change. What other way to celebrate our snow that makes the world a winter land?

The Snow Fairy


Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,
Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,
Whirling fantastic in the misty air,
Contending fierce for space supremacy.
And they flew down a mightier force at night,
As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,
And they, frail things had taken panic flight
Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.
I went to bed and rose at early dawn
To see them huddled together in a heap,
Each merged into the other upon the lawn,
Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.
The sun shone brightly on them half the day,
By night they stealthily had stol’n away.


And suddenly my thoughts then turned to you
Who came to me upon a winter’s night,
When snow-sprites round my attic window flew,
Your hair dishevelled, eyes aglow with light.
My heart was like the weather when you came,
The wanton winds were blowing loud and long;
But you, with joy and passion all aflame,
You danced and sang a lilting summer song.
I made room for you in my little bed,
Took covers from the closet fresh and warm,
A downfall pillow for your scented head,
And lay down with you resting in my arm.
You went with Dawn. You left me ere the day,
The lonely actor of a dreamy play.

Claude McKay

Saturday, 27 December 2014

Quattuordecim challenge number 8

After the safe card, we decided to choose another envelope. For your convenience I put in the right column an overview of the results of the challenges so far.

The assignment

In this bag are two clothes-pins and some weights. Write down the weight you think you can take I put on these clothes-pins on a piece of paper and put it in a envelope. Close the envelope without me seeing what you have written.
In the challenge I blindfold you. After that both clothes-pins will be put on your nipples and I will add another weight at your request. The weight are different sizes and weights. You say “less please” or “more please”. If you think it's enough (and enough is the exact amount you have written on your card), you'll say your safe word and we weigh the total weight. After that we will open your envelope and decide if the challenge was won or lost.

The challenge is won if the weight is equal to the weight you stated in the envelope, lost if it is not. Your hands will be unbound, but you can earn a bonus Q-point (10% of a wellness centre visit) by keeping your hands behind your back during the challenge.

Quatuordecim: Have a look at envelope number 6!

Smile. I don't know who is more relieved: Wanita or myself. But today she chose envelope number 6:

The safecard is kept by Wanita and handed over if there is a challenge she does NOT want to do. There will be no P-point counted (no Q-points as well of course). It is a gentle way out of a game play she doesn't care for.

Congratulations on the safeguard, Wanita!


In Dutch Sir is in common daily use "meneer". A receptionist is calling "meneer Jansen you can go into room number 6 now". Meneer is a degeneration of old Dutch Mijn Heer. And not used anymore, unless religious people address their Lord. But in a time of manors and Lords of manors who had not breakfast, but " broke their fast" it was common daily use. Mijn Heer was a respectful way of talking of a powerful man.

In a play situation my Wanita like to address me as " meester" (master) inside the security of our house, and "meneer"(Sir) or "mijn heer" (Sire) outside. When we are in formal mode speech, every sentence ends with the title. And that can be confusing sometimes.

A few months ago our play had ended. We gone back to regular, unnoticed selves again. We had played for a few hours outside, because there had been too long we could not play inside. So we played the little game of following orders to perfection, and it was mutual fun. But it was time to go home, and all things come to an end. Anyway we are walking on the street and we meet a former colleague of mine. We talk a bit and this man is huge and has like I have a dark voice. At a point my colleague asks her a question and she only answers with "Nee, Mijn Heer" (No, Sire). I have never seen her that red. She kept her eyes on the ground and her head lowered. My colleague only raised her eyebrows a bit as I resumed our conversation.

It is not the first time she has used formal speech in a public situation. But we like our play private as a rule there is too much to lose when narrow-minded people know too much. But every once in a while when we come out of a play situation and we meet a handsome or powerful man, instincts kick in.

Friday, 26 December 2014

Second Christmas Day

Today go Dutch again flocking around the shopping malls and enjoy the British from a day full of sports, because it is Second Christmas Day or Boxing Day.
But why do we Europeans actually an extra day after Christmas, a tradition that for example doesn’t really exist in the America? In short, why do we actually celebrate Second Christmas Day?

Even before the emergence of Christianity the pagan Germanic celebrated the “Yule”, also known as the “Midwinter Festival”. In total, the festivities lasted twelve days, but the climax was reached on the shortest day of the year, December 21st. After this date, the days were getting longer and the amount of sunlight became more every day again, and thus celebrated the Germans during the “Yule” that the worst of winter had passed.

Saint Stefanus

With the rise of Christianity in the first centuries after Christ, many pagan traditions were converted to Catholic holidays. Like “Yule”, which was included in the so-called "Christmas season", a period of twelve days between December 25 and January 6, each devoted to at least one Catholic priest. Boxing Day came to this classification to be dedicated to St. Stefanus, the first martyr of Christianity.

Council of Mainz

However, at the Council of Mainz in 813 it was decided to extend the Christmas celebration itself. Henceforth, the Christmas party lasted four days. In all these days it was furthermore forbidden to work, because that would bring bad luck. The four Christmas needed, and got, each its own focus. So the Fourth Day was a Children’s Day and Second Christmas Day was completely dominated by the animals. Farmers allowed their horses galloping through the village to "guarantee" they would not be sick for the rest of the year.

Boxing Day

During the Middle Ages arose in Britain yet another tradition on Second Christmas Day: Boxing Day. This name could have been derived from the box with gifts that many nobles gave their servants on that day. These servants had to work on Christmas Day, but in return they were often the day after Christmas free from their masters. Good employees are also given as a “thank you box” with all kinds of gifts and food leftovers to take home.

Second Christmas Day

In recent centuries, the celebration of Christmas, however, was again gradually curtailed. Thus the tradition of Fourth Day soon lost. In 1773 the Dutch government decided to abolish The Third Christmas Day. Even Second Christmas Day appeared to be in danger, but the 18th century initiatives led to nothing. Indeed, in 1964 both Christmas days have been declared official Dutch holidays.

The religious character of Second Christmas Day however, is lost. Meanwhile, most Dutch people spend their extra day because usually by the shopping malls or at the in-laws. A similar development took also place in Britain, where Boxing Day today primarily known as an important day in football and rugby matches.

Thursday, 25 December 2014

Christmas Story

Today a story I wrote myself a few years ago in 2011, to be precise. I translated it in English as well as I could (with a little help from Appy). I hope you enjoy it.

I want to be a writer so much it hurts. The beauty in writing is the absence of talking. I don’t like talking all that much, and to be honest I am not very good at it either… I stu stu stutter a bit, and if I can prevent talking , I will do my utmost to avoid it. I’m better at writing. In primary school I’ve earned good grades for writing and reading. It is fashionable nowadays to have a presentation about something in front of a classroom. It’s your turn to talk. About anything and everything. You are supposed to learn that way to talk in front of a group of people. But I don’t want to talk in front of a group of people. I’d rather not talk at all, if you don’t mind. To write what I am thinking, now that I can do. There is but one huge disadvantage about wanting to be a writer: you want to be read. It is like applause after a performance: your book in some one else's hands. In the hands of a pretty girl of course. Fat chance at that, ever. Somehow it hurts more if a girl laughs at you in your face than when a boy does the same. Most boys don’t laugh, by the way, they have other ways to show how they think of my stu-stu-stutter.

To have my book published is as easy as getting rid of the stammer. But I am a modern guy so I made a blog on the Internet. Unfortunately a blog no one ever visited. I watched YouTube and saw the three-minutes-movies where people told a story. Now, that is what I wanted! There was only one problem. I don’t have to explain what it is, do I? The only thing I needed was some one to tell my story on YouTube. Right. One half of my class were half baboons that like to mock-fight all day long, and the other half were Barbie dolls. To the girls the special bargains at the local drug-store would be the highlight any day. So none of the kids on my class were in my target group. Besides, I would never, I mean ever let a guy read my text aloud. I mean. Not ever. But where would I find a girl that would be crazy enough to read my texts out loud and be seen worldwide on the Internet?

You know, once I’ve got an idea, it is NOT gone the next minute or so… Just like the stutter, a thought keeps re re repeating itself. On the Net there was a place where you could leave a message or a request. And so I did. “Is there a girl who is willing to record one of my texts?”. Two weeks went by. Nothing. Of course not. After three weeks one message: Could I send some samples of my texts? I sent her a couple of Christmas stories. I had enough of those.
New message: Did I live at travelling distance? Could I come to her house and meet her? Bad idea. Ve Ve Very B B bad idea.

I replied: “Do you have a camera so you can record it yourself if I just delivered the text?”
Oh. Now what? “Nice to have met you, goodbye?”. Or try to send a “semi funny” mail? My only line of defence left was self mockery and I sketched my dilemma in broad outlines.
The mail was quiet for a week. Of course there was no message. Because I checked my mail on average 52 times a day, it wasn’t possible I could have missed it. On the eighth day DingDong, new message. Elise van Zanten. Elise wrote she was willing to do it, but she needed me to make a decent clip for YouTube. Could I bring my video camera and meet her at her address at eight next Friday?

Now if I wanted to be a famous writer, (and I did) that meant I had to go. Get on with it. My tripod trembled with nerves as I rang her doorbell. Elise opened the door. Not what I had expected of course. Not the buxom goddess of my age with long blond hair, but a woman in her fifties, long and dignified. Sandy hair, in a colour on sale this week at the local drug-store. She was a lady, that much could not be overlooked. I noticed how she sat. Not like our generation: flop into one’s chair and chill. You know, chill. No, with a straight back a bit towards the edge of the chair, without the slightest slouch. The conversation went well. A breath of fresh air, really. After three sentences I locked up completely and couldn’t say a word for as long as a minute. I got all red, became more nervous, and after that I couldn’t say the word video at all of course. Elise smiled and asked if I would rather finish my sentence or if I preferred she could try to finish it for me? I started again using different words and somehow that went quite well. And so we breathed trough of a few embarrassing moments. We decided to make a trial recording. Against the white wall in her room she put a chair and a few meters away I put up my video camera on the tripod.

She spoke in a calm, well articulate voice. My text sounded more like a melody then anything I’d written. I tried to tell her I was enthusiastic about her performance, but she understood that anyway, even if I cou cou couldn’t say it. We cleaned up and sat on the couch again. I got a Cola. No trace of a mister Van Zanten anywhere. We made an appointment as to which stories we would record and the sequence of it. What made her human, or should I say feminine, is that she said: ‘I have nothing to wear’. We agreed on meeting next week Saturday at eleven.

At eleven o clock sharp I was at her doorstep again. She offered me coffee, but I didn’t care for coffee. Instead I said: “No, lets go shopping”. Well, of course it sounded more like: “Nn, nnn, nn n no, lets go sh sh sh shopping.”
She drove me to the nearest mall, because I’m going for my drivers licence October next year. I would have asked a blond goddess of my age at the back seat of my bike, but not a prim and proper Mrs. Van Zanten. I had done my homework and so I knew which store to visit. So we went in a straight line to that store. Elise understood what I had in mind and started to protest: “O, no my friend that is so no going to happen. You are not buying me something expensive in there, you are going to spend your money more useful.”

She didn’t knew me well enough to realize that once I’ve made up my mind, I can be rather stubborn. And so we left the shop with a black evening gown that would have fitted a movie star and made me spend about 70% of my savings. The rest of my money went to the hairdresser.
Compared with that the recording of the text was easy. Elise knew all the texts by heart and when we took three takes to record, she didn’t complain. That evening and night I edited everything together and the next morning I was on her doorstep again with a bunch of flowers and a YouTube movie.

I had the miniature Christmas tree in my hand, decorated and all. 17,95 on sale at Wallmart. I watched a black shining stone that read: Here rests Elise Johanna van Zanten 21-09-1959 – 14-09-2007. It did not say: Run over by a drunken driver. I did not say: The guy had already served his time in prison and was now driving again, free as a bird.

She hadn’t been forgotten in the four years that have passed since then. Fresh flowers, a  small stone heart, two little stone angels on her grave and a small candle in a glass jar made clear she was not forgotten and she still warmed and lit the heart of many. After I was satisfied the frozen grave was neat and tidy again I stood up and said to my wife that stood motionless next to me: “Your mother looks decent again”. She nodded, grabbed my hand a squeezed it for a moment. That was enough.

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Christmas Eve 2014

A long time ago, in the town of Nazareth, lived a young woman named Mary.  Mary did her chores, was kind to others, and loved God very much.  She was engaged to be married to Joseph, who was a carpenter.

One day, while Mary was at home cleaning her room, an angel suddenly appeared.  Before Mary could say anything the angel told Mary that she was favored by God, and that God was with her.
Mary was surprised.  She was trying not to be afraid, but she had never seen an angel before.  After all, Mary was just a regular lady like you or I.  Why was this angel visiting her?  What did the angel want?

The angel quickly tried to reassure Mary, "Do not be afraid!"  the angel said.  "God has found favor with you.  You will have a baby boy, and are to give him the name Jesus."
Mary was confused, she was not yet married to Joseph, so how could she have a baby?  The angel thought that this might concern Mary so he said, "The Holy Spirit will perform a miracle, and because of this your baby will be called  the Son of God."

To Mary's surprise the angel had more exciting news;  "Even your cousin Elizabeth is going to have a son in her old age.  Many thought that she couldn't have children, but she is already pregnant.  Nothing is impossible with God."
Mary couldn't believe what she was hearing, she didn't know what to say.  She realized that she was trembling, and knelt down.  When she was finally able to speak she said, "I am the Lord's servant, and I hope everything you have said will come true."
The angel then disappeared, and Mary was left alone.

Soon after, Joseph found out that Mary was going to have a baby.  Joseph was confused and upset by this. But an angel came to him in a dream and said, "Joseph do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife.  The child Mary is going to have is God's son, and you are to give him the name Jesus."
When Joseph woke up he remembered what the angel had said.  He knew that everything was okay, and he wasn't upset anymore.

In those days the government decided that they should count everyone that lived in that area of the world.  So Joseph had to take Mary to his town, Bethlehem to register.
It took Mary and Joseph a long time to get to Bethlehem.  They didn't have cars back then, so it probably took them a lot longer to get there.  This was very tiring for Mary because she was soon going to have a baby.

When they reached the town, all the hotels were full and there was nowhere that they could stay.  Finally, someone felt bad for them, and offered them a place to stay.
The Bible doesn't say for sure where they stayed but most people think that they stayed in a small barn where animals were kept.  In any case, doesn't it seem strange that Jesus, the King of the Jews wasn't born in a fancy palace or even a hospital?

Mary and Joseph were thankful that they at least had a place to lay down.  It was warm, and there was plenty of straw to lay on.
That night an exciting, wonderful thing happened.  Mary and Joseph had a baby!  But it wasn't just any baby, it was Baby Jesus!  The creator of the whole world, the King of Kings, the one who would save the world.
The little baby boy fell asleep in Mary's arms and she wrapped him in cloths and laid him in a manger on some clean straw.
Mary and Joseph soon fell asleep, they were so glad to have this special baby join their family.

Gerard van Honthorst 1622

Sloth 7

Thursday, 18 December 2014

Sloth 1


Wrath, Greed, Gluttony, Lust, Envy, Pride and Sloth. 
Sloth is the seventh and last of the seven mortal sins series.

Sloth is one of the seven deadly sins in Christian moral tradition, particularly within Catholicism, referring to laziness.
Sloth is defined as spiritual or emotional apathy, neglecting what God has spoken, and being physically and emotionally inactive. It can also be either an outright refusal or merely a carelessness in the performance of one's obligations, especially spiritual, moral or legal obligations. Sloth can also indicate a wasting due to lack of use, concerning a person, place, thing, skill, or intangible ideal that would require maintenance, refinement, or support to continue to exist.
Religious views concerning the need for one to work to support society and further God's plan and work also suggest that, through inactivity, one invites the desire to sin. 

Medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas said Sloth is:
"sluggishness of the mind which neglects to begin good... [it] is evil in its effect, if it so oppresses man as to draw him away entirely from good deeds." 

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Most Sexy Picture Ever (MSPE)

The MSPE is undoubtedly these two pictures here below. No nakedness, but trust, submission, intimacy and closeness. They seem each in a world of their own, and not having any attention for another, but take a second look. They are very much aware of another. Did you notice on the first picture her hand is around his leg? Did you notice he holds her hair in his fist?

Do you see the peace in her face? His hand on her soft hair? Do you think she is reading or just closed her eyes to enjoy his touch?

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

You Got Me Singing

You got me singing
Even tho’ the news is bad
You got me singing
The only song I ever had

You got me singing
Ever since the river died
You got me thinking
Of the places we could hide

You got me singing
Even though the world is gone
You got me thinking
I’d like to carry on

You got me singing
Even tho’ it all looks grim
You got me singing
The Hallelujah hymn

You got me singing
Like a prisoner in a jail
You got me singing
Like my pardon’s in the mail

You got me wishing
Our little love would last
You got me thinking
Like those people of the past

Writer and performer: Leonard Cohen

Monday, 15 December 2014

PP over at Mona Lisa's blog

If you are interested I made my PP (Penalty Post) for Mona Lisa on her blog. I think she has published it today. That is one deadline I did make. LOL. Please visit Mona Lisa's blog over at A Viking Wife's Journey.

Safe in his arms

Sunday, 14 December 2014

His Gentleness

He gently creeps into her room
to rest tenderly near her side
while thoughts of melancholy zoom
in ~ of his once vibrant bride
she's been there for him
so many, many years
he sniffles~and tries to hide
the sorrow and the tears
she has been injured and hurt
but has lost the fight
she will not make it through the night
she will be in paradise by tomorrow's day
he reaches to sniff her best skirt
holds it tight~ it smells of her perfume
he drags over to the vanity to spray
her familiar scent around the room
he cradles her head within his arm
then musters an adoring smile as he whispers in her ear,
"Time travels fast, and I will see you in a while, my dear"
He provides her warmth by stroking her hair
he wants to capture this image of her there
he wants this moment painted on the wall
so that he can always,always recall
how peaceful she seemed while adrift somewhere.

26 November 2010

Saturday, 13 December 2014


In the huge project all of Bach I would like to bring to your attention a wonderful cantata written in or about 1746,  BWV 146:

Wir müssen durch viel Trübsal in das Reich Gottes eingehen

 ‘Though you are sad, your sorrow will turn to joy’. These words from the sermon that was read in Leipzig on the third Sunday after Easter – Jubilate Sunday – sum up the message of this cantata. Here on earth, life is miserable, but fortunately it does not last long, and then there is heaven. The sorrow of earthly life is juxtaposed with the joy offered by faith and the promise of heaven.
The cantata begins fairly cheerfully, with a mini organ concerto as a sinfonia. But immediately afterwards, the misery on earth becomes audible as the singers have difficult lines filled with obstacles. The alto then turns aside from this terrible world and yearns for heaven. The heart of the cantata is formed by the emotional aria ‘Ich säe meine Zähren’, in which Bach illustrates the transition from the bitter present to the sweet future through minimal changes in the solo parts of the soprano, flute, and oboe d’amores. In the final duet and the closing chorale, all the suffering is forgotten.
This beautiful piece of peace is sung by the Netherlands Bach Society, conducted by Jos van Veldhoven.

Friday, 12 December 2014

I said I was SORRY

I said I was SORRY, my Wanita said to me one day. Even experienced sub missives cannot apologize properly sometimes. Or prettily as I call it often. It is not strange, people are not thought nowadays what a proper apology looks like. 

The power shift between two people never is so evident after the dominant finds something that the submissive did wrong. Often this just used as a starting point to begin a BDSM-play situation. The "offence" is often a minor mistake and fair or not, the submissive will apologize for her "bad" behavior. Fairness is important however but that path leads to another post. 
So in daily life a proper apology is important, in a D/s relationship even more so. Too often the sub gets away with a mumbled "I'm sorry." Time to have a look at the basic requirements of a pretty apology:

A pretty apology is:

1. A detailed description of what has happened. If you describe the " offence" in detail, the sub makes it clear that she knows in what situation she hurt her Dom. Just concentrate on WHAT went wrong. Not WHY of WHO or a justification or rationalisation. Not: "I'm sorry, but you made me ..." Just describe what has happened. 

2. Recognition. Say: " I know I hurt you with that." or in your own words with recognition of the damage that has been done. In a minor offence this seems extremely overdone, and even might look silly. But it is not. It is the essence of a Dom/Sub relation. Those words reflect the humility in the speaker and an acknowledgement of the very nature of their relationship.

3. Take responsibly. Say what you should have done, but didn't do, say what you did wrong and you see it is your fault it's gone wrong. The body language should match the words. If the apology is not sincere the body language will tell. Always. If there are rules between you and your sub about postures, follow them to the letter. If there aren't  eyes looking to the ground, on the knees is a safe way of proper submission. 

4. Say you are sorry. Say it from the heart. In whatever words come to you.

5. Ask for forgiveness. It doesn't matter if the offence was deliberate or not. What has been done has been done. After you said you are sorry for that you ask your Dom for forgiveness. Again that may seem overdone in situations. But again it is the Dom that decides what is needed for his or her forgiveness.
6. Ask what you can do to repair the damage. And that is your opening to a play situation where after whatever has been done, the Dom thinks that should be done, the Dom can forgive and all is forgiven and on both sides forgotten.
OK, I can hear the question coming, but what about the Dom, if he is wrong? Doms are people and people make mistakes. And grown up Dominants apologize for their mistake. In a way it is more easy to the submissive. She is granted forgiveness.
The Dom is the only person that can forgive himself. Even if he is forgiven by his submissive, he, or she, is ultimately the one that can forgive himself.

Thursday, 11 December 2014

It's a male thing.. giving points

I know. It is a male pig thing to do. But we are not rating her body here, we don't say anything if we like the parts of her body or not, we are rating her submissiveness here. Obviously this is a submissive woman. But how submissive is she in the picture?

OK, we are the judges and this is a contest. Let's give points, shall we.
Face: 8 points,submissive look down to much stuff around the eyes, hair nicely pulled back, but a simple ponytail would have been so much perkier. It is now a messy bun. I know it is fashionable, but I like a simple ponytail, high on the head, better. No earrings. Big earrings would have been nice.

Neck: 6 points. The collar seems heavy because of her posture. Maybe it is heavy, It is metal. The leash makes the picture interesting. It is secured outside the image somewhere. I think the photographer wanted the leash in a straight line downwards. Wrong choice, very wrong choice.

Upper body: 3 points. OK, I looked at her breasts first. Nice breasts. But why not a proud straight back, huh? This bent posture ruins the picture, really. On her knees the submissive must maintain a straight back. She is proud of what she is. The metal cuffs looks nice, but if the back was straight there would not be so much attention to her elbows, because her elbows would rest against her sides.

Lower body: 6 points. The hands. What are they doing? Holding something? Why? Why are they not in a flat position on her thighs? It looks so very untidy like this. Distracting even. Her buttocks make the picture wonderful. Made for spanking, don't you agree? Boy does this girl have a nice butt. Yum.
The legs are pretty as well. The tension in the toes, the deep seating, the legs apart leaving her all vulnerable and yet secret to us...

So I come up with 8 + 6 + 3 + 6 = 23 points. And you?

Tuesday, 9 December 2014

So many books, so little time....

I have always something to do. I have always a books to read. And some books I like to read again, and again, and again. Years and years ago (no TV-series to be seen yet) I asked my librarian of the public library to order Dragonfly in Amber for me. He looked at me funny, but ordered the book anyway. I read and reread the series a couple of times...

Monday, 8 December 2014

Reading.... Grin

Did you know the extent of the branches of the tree are about the opposite of the root system below the ground? It is a beautiful thought is it not?

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Result Goodreads challenge 1963

Mmmm, look at the column on the right, zero days of the Han van Meegeren - Mona Lisa Da Vinci Goodreads Galore Book Challenge of the year 1963. The year Barbra Streisand sung the Colouring Book. And this is the day the homework must be turned in. Today it is the showing of the cards, write the review of the book, or pay the penalty and write a guest post about a subject my opponent has determined.

I'm not naive and I knew a book of 560 pages would be a real challenge. On the other hand most of the letters are quite short and read quite easily. So I thought it would be difficult, but not impossible. But life is not a book, and you cannot plan life ahead. Smile. And things come up in real life that need your attention more than Van Gogh does. He doesn't mind, his letters will be patiently waiting next week. I reached page 134 and by far not the whole book.

So it is another personal challenge lost. And I will have a look later today at Mona Lisa's blog. If you want to know what subject she has chosen for me to write on, I suggest you do the same.

Congratulations on winning this challenge, Mona Lisa!
And there is always a rematch in 1964...

Saturday, 6 December 2014

Colouring book

Yesterday I got from Sinterklaas a colouring book, I was quite happy with. Such a thoughtful gift I want to share today with an amazing song of Barbra Streisand, singing Colouring Book.

For those who fancy coloring books
As certain people do
Here's a new one for you
A most unusual coloring book

The kind you never see
Crayons ready?
Very well
Begin to color me

These are the eyes that watched him
As he walked away
Color them gray

This is the heart that thought
He would always be true
Color it blue

These are the arms that held him
And touched him
Then lost him, somehow
Color them empty, now

These are the beads I wore
Until she came between
Color them green

This is the room I sleep in
Walk in and weep in, hiding
That nobody sees
Color it lonely, please

This is the man
The one I depended upon
Color him gone
LIVE performance by Babra Streisand, 1963

Friday, 5 December 2014


In the Netherlands, Saint Nicholas' Eve, 5 December, became the most important occasion for gift-giving during the winter holiday season. The evening is called Sinterklaasavond or Pakjesavond ("gifts evening", or literally "packages evening").

On the evening of 5 December, the presents will somehow arrive, or a note will be "found" that explains where in house the presents were hidden by Zwarte Piet who left a burlap sack with them. Sometimes a neighbour will knock on the door (pretending to be a Zwarte Piet) and leave the sack outside for the children to retrieve; this varies per family.

When the presents arrive, the living room is decked out with them, much as on Christmas Day in English-speaking countries. On 6 December, Sinterklaas departs without any ado, and all festivities are over. In Belgium, most children have to wait until the morning of 6 December to receive their gifts, and Sinterklaas is seen as a festivity almost exclusively for children. The shoes are filled with carrots and sugar cubes on the evening of the fifth and often, a bottle of beer for Zwarte Piet and a cup of coffee for Sinterklaas are placed next to them.

Sinterklaas largely replaces Christmas as a gift-giving occasion, usually for as long as the children are living at home. Also, when it is time for children to give up their pacifier, they place it into his or her shoe ("safekeeping by Sinterklaas") and it is replaced with chocolate the next morning.

The present is often creatively disguised by being packaged in a humorous, unusual or personalised way. This is called a surprise (from the French ). Poems from Sinterklaas usually accompany gifts, bearing a personal message for the receiver. It is usually a humorous poem which often teases the recipient for well-known bad habits or other character deficiencies. When the children reach the age when they know "the big secret of Sinterklaas", some people will shift to Christmas Eve or Christmas Day for the present giving. Older children in Dutch families where the children are too old to believe in Sinterklaas anymore, also often celebrate Christmas with presents instead of pakjesavond.

Instead of such gifts being brought by Sinterklaas, family members may draw names for an event comparable to Secret Santa.

PS: Still no news of doctor Piet. We will have to wait tonight and see!

Thursday, 4 December 2014

Panic in the Netherlands: Sinterklaas has gone mad!

 Alarming news! Extra! Sinterklaas journal reports:

We have a huge problem in the Netherlands. Sinterklaas seems to have burned the wish lists of all the children. Now our wish lists have been burned by Sinterklaas we can safely assume that pakjesavond cannot continue this year. It seems now obvious Sinterklaas has gone mad.

The past few days it's gotten worse and worse. While all the helpers were panicking about the missing wish lists, Sinterklaas  slowly
went to feed the ducks - in his underwear dress! He also just traded his loyal horse in a new black horse. Even though Sinterklaas said we shouldn't worry, we do worry! Surely. Is he insane by over-fatigue? We know Sinterklaas did take a lot of naps in recent times and so often fell asleep. The reporter of the Sinterklaas journal asked the Doctor Piet. Who noticed two weeks ago already that there was something wrong with Sinterklaas: "Sinterklaas showed already very alarming fatigue phenomena and that is unfortunately so has become a classic case of Prorsus-Deperdita.
A difficult word, but in the Doctors language it means that Sinterklaas completely has gone mad. "According to the doctor Sinterklaas is very lucky that there is a real doctor is present in the Big Piet house. He told us that he knows exactly what to do.

"I've even taken action. Tomorrow everything will change." What the plan of Doctor Piet exactly was, he couldn't tell us.
"Professional confidentiality", he said.  

Hopefully it works and we can go ahead with pakjesavond this year.

Has Sinterklaas gone MAD? Doctor Piet takes measures!

Sins of youth

Ah, to be young. Kayak was a symphonic rock group in the late seventies. Kayak records made it to the number 1 spot in Holland Hit Parade, but for some reason, this song didn't. It's top position was #6. And for some reason this somewhat bombastic song I kept stored in my memory somewhere.

Sunday, 30 November 2014

Mahatma Gandhi

The book I opted for in 1962 was not “one flew over the Chuckoo's nest”, not “a Clockwork Orange”, but The Essential Gandhi: An Anthology of His Writings on His Life, Work, and Ideas . I have never read the other two famous books as well, all published for the first time in 1962, but I wanted my list a bit to represent my personality: a little bit of everything. I did not know anything about Gandhi emoviexcept the fact that he was killed, except that he stood for non-violence behavior. I was surprised to learn he was born in 1869. It is significant his name is still a household name after so many years, Never even seen the Ben Kingsley movie in 1982. So I started the book with and an open mind. And critics say there are far better biographies about the man. And perhaps there are. Gandi wrote this book himself but did not always put things into a context, he assumed we already know things. He simply is a diary writer, not a writer. And the narrator wrote in between the context so people could understand the bigger picture. Also it seems the Indian language is more compact than the English language so the writer had to put in words to allow the reader to understand.  But to read the words from Gandhi himself is such a humbling experience, it outweighs the acknowledged drawbacks with ease.


Mahatma is Sanskrit for “Great Soul”. Gandhi himself thought the title foisted on him, was more a burden than he was very proud of it. In the book he writes:
"Truth to me is infinitely dearer that the "mahatmaship" witch is purely a burden. It is my knowledge of my limitations and my nothingness which so far saved me from the oppressiveness of "mahatmaship". The Mahatma I must leave to his fate. Though a non-coöperator I shall gladly subscribe to a bill to make it criminal for anybody to call me Mahatma and to touch my feet..."
  I will not repeat the life story - and the story of the book that describes it. I'm simply not good enough to do it in a single blog post. What I will do is to take a few quotes I think that are worth remembering:

Of Children

Gandhi's correspondence with children gave him much joy, and he attended to it with the same devotion and care he showed all his work. A little girl once wrote to him "We are working to prevent war and making posters. God bless you". Gandhi gave his reply:
I was delighted to have your sweet notes with funny drawings made by you... Yes, it is little children like you who will stop all war. This means you never quarrel with other boys and girls or among yourselves... May God bless you all. My kisses to you all if you will let me kiss you..."

Of Love and War

"Mankind has to get out of violence only through non-violence. As bombs will nt be destroyed by counter bombs. Hatred can be overcome only by love. Counter-hatred only increases the surface as well as the depth of hatred".

Of discrimination

 "It is a law of nature that the skin of races living near the equator should be black. And if we believe that there must be beauty in everything fashioned by nature, we woud ... steer clear of all narrow and one-sided conceptions of beauty. In my opinion, there is no place on earth and no race which is not capable of producing the fines types of humanity, given suitable opportunities and education"

 Of voluntary poverty

"And those who have followed out of this vow of voluntary poverty to the fullest extent possible... testify that when you dispossess yourself everything you have, you really possess all the treasures of the world."

 Of parent responsibility

"My brother gave me up, and practically stopped all communication. I was deeply distressed, but it would have been a greater distress to give up what I considered to be my duty.  But that did not affect my devotion to him. His great love for me was at the root of his misery. Near the end of his life, however, he appreciated my viewpoint. He commended his sons to my care, to be brought up as I thought fit. His sons had been brought up in the old atmosphere and could not change their course of life. I could not draw them to me. It was not their fault. Who can erase the impressions with witch he is  born? It is idle to expect one's children and wards necessarily to follow the same course of evolution as oneself. 
This instance to some extent serves to show what a terrible responsibility it is to be a parent."

Just five, not famous, examples of the wisdom of the book. I found reading it a humbling experience. It is one thing to say you believe in something, is it another to give your properties away. Your pride away. Your life away for it. Gandhi did all that and more. The book is an inspiration to read more about the man and the things that he believed in. What the world needs now is more people like Gandhi that say "Anger is the enemy of non-violence and pride is a monster that swallows it up."

I'm glad I chose this book, it will not be the last time I have read parts of it.
But looking at the right side of my blog says I have only 7 days left to read the 1963 book, the Letters of Vincent van Gogh. And I'm sure it is pride that made me buy the English version instead of the Dutch.


Saturday, 29 November 2014


My choice of 1962 was a book based on the notes Mahatma Ghandi himself made in:

The Essential Gandhi: An Anthology of His Writings on His Life, Work, and Ideas
I didn't want to build a week around this Goodreads challange book, like I did in 1959, 60 and 61, because this book the time frame in which is is written is not as important as the content is different. The content is without a time frame, timeless. Inspired by the great Ghandi, I decided to bring forward the sin of  Pride. I originally planned Pride to be the last of the seven deadly sins. 
Secondly I decided to make no distracting posts in my week of contemplation. 
What is the opposite of pride? According to Gandhi it is humility and it really does work. The hundreds of curious viewers looking for sensation in the Quattuordecim challenge disappeared as fast as they came, until I had left nine people yesterday.
And today the voice of Aafje Heynis came out of nowhere and sang of redemption.

I have never heard a voice so tender, so honest, so averse of aggrandizement and yet so strong, and full of inner conviction. Like Bach himself. Aafje Heynis. Forgotten maybe, but not by me. The voice of an angel.

Scholars doubt this piece is by Bach. It doesn’t matter who wrote it. It is one of the most comforting songs I have ever heard.

If you are with me, then I will go gladly
unto [my] death and to my rest.
Ah, what a pleasant end for me,
if your dear hands be the last I see,
closing shut my faithful eyes to rest! 

Alternative translation:

When thou art near, I go with joy
To death and to my rest.
O how pleasant would my end be,
If your fair hands
Would close my faithful eyes. 

The fear of dying plays a prominent role in our existence. And these words say on the most beautiful melody written ever, “When thou art near, I go with joy to death and to my rest. Oh, how pleasant would my end be if your fair hands would close my faithful eyes.”


And it brings tears in my eyes even to write it here. And it really doesn’t matter to the Devine I think if your thou is the Christian God, or the Muslim God, or the Jewish God, Buddha or goes by any other name. In the end if there is peace within yourself, and not being scared to death of death, is the most important thing.
So tomorrow I will publish my review of the Ghandi book. Today is for introspection. 



Sunday, 23 November 2014

Detailed report Quattuordecim challenge day

Maybe you are curious about the course of yesterdays events. Well, we started like I planned, I'm always awake quite early so I woke up just before seven. I broke our fast, and washed her from top to toe in the shower. We have these hand grips in the shower for our daughter to hold to and prevent from falling. One hand on one grip, the other on the other side, legs wide apart as possible makes a kind of improvised spread eagle position. I did not allowed her to wash herself, I did the washing and the drying after. All very efficient and quick, because our hairdresser would come at 08:00 hours. I dressed her in her bath gown. Patrice was on the dot on time. She is a bubbly person and Wanita and she can make as much noise together as a hen house. She washed and föhn her hair, put make-up on and you know, she looked prettier then ever. I thanked Patrice and showed her out.

We have a digital clock on our TV-receiver thing and it showed 08:52 hours. I put the box before her and said you are not allowed to open it before nine. If the clock strikes 9 - a digital clock sadly cannot strike - you may open it. It sounds different in Dutch, but that is the best translation I can think of. I called her by her name Wanita and that is the sign to us both the game has started. She wanted to protest, but I told her to be quiet. So we watched together in silence as the clock change it's digits.

Finally it was nine and she tore the ribbon of the box and pulled her presents out. They are numbered in the order of dress, I tried to help. She muttered under her breath something that suspiciously sounded like "Autistic", but I let that slip.
So she opened package number 1 the corset. She liked that. I helped her to put it on. She'd rather unpack all the things first, but that is not the way I want it done. She's a bit self-conscious about her body like a lot of women are, but she looked stunning to me.

After that I put on her stockings with elastic band to keep it in place without a garter belt (she doesn't like garter belts). She was pleased with the perfume and wanted to put that on herself (Bad experience in the past LOL). And so finally we came to the dress. I was hoping it would fit, and it fit really well, really. Even the shoes where I was not sure of, were well good enough to walk on. I told her to put her own clothes in a bag and if there was an activity she wouldn't like in that outfit, she would say her safeword. After that is is allowed to get into her own clothes and she loses the challenge.She was pleased enough with the end result to go wirh me.

In the morning I had a stroll trough the woods in mind. We are creatures of habit - OK, I am -  so we went to the woods near Zeist in Holland. It is about an hour away from our home and we know these woods well. It is really beautiful this time of year and the weather beautiful 15 degrees with a little sun in November! With a warm overcoat over the dress, no problems. I told her to look out for a nice branch we could use as a cane. After finding a suitable one, we went to our favourite place to have a light lunch (remember the always counting points in the back of your head stuff?).

After that I drove off to the Casino in Utrecht. We never ever visit a Casino so I don't know any of the rules of the games. That was obvious because I lost my 100 euros in a new world record, Wanita had a very small profit, but lost some in the end. After that we drove off to the beach of Katwijk aan Zee. We had a stroll on the beach and ate in a seafood place there. We sat on a bench next to each other and the dress that is really short on the front and the lack of panties was a good combination. I had a little harmless fun with her. I had bought tickets for " Soldaat van Oranje", a musical she always wanted to see (a World War II story) but it just seemed too expensive at the time. We had something extra this month so I could afford fifth row seats. A real weird experience sitting on a floor turning around towards the players with stages build in a circle. I thought the musical was mwah, but Wanita was glowing in the dark. In the theatre a few male heads turned her way and she kept me informed who looked at her and when.

After the musical we drove home. At home I kissed her and said Congratulations, you have won the challenge! We had a lazy hour and after that we celebrated her victory.

So another 10% of the wellness day is in the pocket. On to the next!

The Favor

The Favor was a story of FICTION. It is one of my favourite stories. But let's face it. It is guys porn. It is graphic, it is visual and direct and it is some bits are on the edge of what can really happen. I have read the complete story several times, and it never, ever occurred to me that it might be child pornography. There is probably no one in this country who condemns child porn more than yours truly.
But I don't consider either of them a child. Some boys and girls can be immature at 30, some are mature at 16. I think they do act like adults. And yes 17 year olds do have sex. And yes 17 year olds do experiment. And that is all they are doing in my opinion. Experimenting. In a safe fictional environment. People in my country are allowed to make their own decisions in this country at the age of 18, including driving a car, signing legal binding contracts, getting married.

But a few people I have great respect for, consider the story however as child pornography. The last thing I want to do is to hurt their feelings, and I'm certain I'll do just that if I keep posting. So I decided to stop posting the chapters. To those of you that do want to read the entire story, you can find it at

I apologize to those I may have offended. That was and is, never my intention.

Pride 2

Saturday, 22 November 2014

Today is Quattuordecim day

OK, Today is the day. I bribed my daughter into spending the weekend at her friends place by giving her money to spend on dinner and a little spending money. The wheelchair taxi can bring her there and the parents of her friend always bring them with a big car. (They are filthy rich, but nice people)

On Friday night she left and she will be back Sunday around noon. I said I wanted to surprise her mama, and she understands of course that we wanted to be alone. She's not a dummy, my girl.

Anyway, so these are my plans for today.
At 07:00 hours (maybe a minute later LOL), I'll make her breakfast. Fresh Orange Juice (1 ProPoint), 2 Fries Rye bread slices (5 ProPoints), two teaspoons 20+ cream cheese ( 1 ProPoint and one with 20+ cheese (half a slice, 1 ProPoint).
At eight I have planned the hairdresser at home. She is the niece of Wanita and she did her hair and make-up on our wedding day. My wife is not a girlie girl and almost never wears make-up. But today she needs to look pretty to feel pretty. If I spend money I'd better spend it on family, don't you agree?
After her niece is gone, and I have no idea how long this is going to take. Patrice says about an hour, max. hour and a half.
After that she can have a look at the box that has been in our bedroom since Wednesday. This will be in the box:
This satin corset:

(without the panties I might add)

A velvet dress and blouse



These hold up stockings, black

These shoes (tricky part, difficult feet, maybe they don't fit well. I have a plan B)

This Eau De Toilette spray. I love this smell of this on her. The Sun, the Moon and the Stars is so appropriate, because she is the Sun, the Moon and the Stars to me.

(FYI: It opens with fruity-floral notes of freesia, bergamot, pineapple, orange blossom, lotus, rice and juicy peach. The heart of this exotic fragrance is created of heliotrope, intensive jasmine, orange blossom, daffodil, carnation, lily of the valley, seductive orchid and iris. The base carries sandalwood, cedar, amber, musk and vanilla)

So I planned for us a morning, an afternoon, an evening and a night activity. If you are curious if the challenge is done, check in tomorrow. Oh. I probably have a good sleep until noon Sunday. LOL.

The favor, chapter 5

The Hairdresser by MWTB

I gave Rachel a few minutes to descend from her orgasm. That was the first time I had ever seen a woman make herself cum, and it was all I could do to keep myself from throwing her on the bed and having my way with her. She would have enjoyed it too, but I wanted to make it even more special for her.

I walked her to the bed and handed her a dress. "Wear this," I said.

She took it from me and looked at me with a smile. "You always were a sucker for a sundress," she said. "But this really got too small on me."

"Nevertheless," I replied.

She slipped it over her head and reached for her panties. "Just the dress," I said. She looked at me with a smirk. I signaled her to stand near me as I picked up a pair of scissors.

"What are you going to do with that?" she asked.

I reached over and pulled her top button and snipped it off. Then I did the same for the next two. When I stepped back I saw the swells of her breasts clearly evident through the open top of the dress.
"Good thing I don't wear this that much any more," she told me.

"We'll see," I said, smiling. Then I pointed around and told her, "I'm going downstairs for a little bit. Clean up this room and make the bed so that everything is neat for later." Then I left and went downstairs.

I sat on the couch in the living room and tried to collect my thoughts. I was trying to be cool, collected and suave on the outside, but on the inside I was a raging ball of hormones. I seriously considered going to the bathroom and relieving myself, but I decided to wait. I had already committed myself to three orgasms today, I didn't know if I had four in me. However I was pretty sure my first one would not be long lasting.

A few minutes later Rachel came downstairs saying, "All done." I stood up and looked at her. I smiled and signaled for her to spin. She got a smirk as she spun. The dress I had selected was from last year, and was short on her. As she spun it flared up, giving me a view of her ass and her dense bush.

I held out my arm with a smile and she took it as I escorted her outside. I walked her to my car and helped her in. She again smirked at me as she made sure that the dress rode up so that I could get another glimpse of her bush. I leaned in and said, "You really are quite the slut, aren't you?"

She smiled back and said, "But I'm your slut."

"For now," I replied, and her smile faltered a little bit.

We drove in silence for a few minutes until we reached our destination. As I helped her out of the car, she said, "Why are we here? I just got my hair cut last week? Are we meeting Michelle?"

I leaned in and whispered, "I always want my sluts to be bald."

She looked at me fearfully, but followed me in. The girl behind the desk looked up as we walked in and said, "Hi Jeff, Michelle's not here."

"I know," I told her. "We have an appointment with Janice."

"OK, hold on a minute while I get her," she told me. Rachel grabbed my hand and held it hard as we stood waiting quietly.

Janice came over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Jeff," she exclaimed. "It's good to see you. And is this Rachel?" She grabbed Rachel's hands in hers and looked her up and down. "She really is a pretty one. Come on back."

Rachel grabbed my hand as we followed Janice back. Janice is in her late twenties, her hair was dyed bright red and she had always flirted good-naturedly with me. The fact that I knew that she was a lesbian never stopped me from flirting back. Janice led us into a little room and said, "What exactly did you want?"

"I won't do anything that will last forever, but I want it all off," I told her.
Rachel squeezed my hand even harder and moaned, "Jeff!"

I looked at Rachel as I told Janice, "Rachel here is quite the slut, and I think sluts like her look better with bald pussies. So I want it all waxed off."

Rachel practically slumped with relief when she realized that I was having her pussy shaved and not her head. Her relief didn't last too long as Janice offered her a gown to get into, and I said, "No need, she'll just take off her dress."

Rachel just looked at me in shock as I unbuttoned two more buttons and slipped her dress over her shoulders so that it pooled at her feet, leaving her body exposed to Janice.
Janice whistled in appreciation as she saw Rachel's body. "Hop up here," she said, and Rachel got up on the table.

"I just have to get my stuff," Janice said and opened the door and walked out. She left the door open as she walked over to get her things. It was empty in the back, but anyone could have walked by and seen Rachel lying nude on the table. No one did, however, and in a moment Janice was back, closing the door behind her.

She walked up to look between Rachel's legs and said, "It really is a forest in there. I'll clean it up a little before I wax." She pulled out her electric clippers and started running it around between Rachel's legs. Rachel grabbed my hand as she saw the hair start to scatter, and then gasped and squeezed harder as the vibrating clippers touched a delicate spot.

Janice pulled the clippers away and said, "Jeff, can you grab me that cloth. This one is sopping down here, and I need to dry her off a little before it messes up my instruments."

Rachel moaned and tried to bury her face in my arm as her whole body flushed in embarrassment. Janice finished with the clippers, getting Rachel closer to orgasm but not taking her over. Then she spread Rachel's legs even more, put the wet wax around her pubic area, placed the strip, and yanked. I would have screamed, but Rachel just moaned deeply. Janice did it again and again, until she did right over Rachel's clit. Rachel groaned as some of the hot wax touched her wet clit, and then screamed and shuddered as the last strip was pulled off.

"I do believe that your little slut just came," Janice told me. Rachel moaned again, trying hard not to look at Janice.

Janice poked around with tweezers for a while, finding stray hairs and pulling them out. When she was done, I told Rachel, "Say thank you to Janice, for doing such a good job."

Rachel looked up, embarrassment written all over her face and quietly said, "Thank you very much."
"Anytime, hon," Janice replied. "You'll have to come back in a few weeks." Rachel groaned, but Janice just kissed me on the cheek and left the room.

I helped Rachel up and slipped the dress over her head. Rachel grabbed me and gave me the hardest kiss I'd ever gotten from a woman. "Are you going to take me home and rape me now?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not quite yet," I responded with a smile. "One more stop." Rachel buried her face in my neck, groaning in frustration, and I could not help copping a feel of her ass. She pressed her ass into my hands as she moved her lips back to mine.

I swatted her ass then laughed as we went back to the front. "Everyone is looking at me," she whispered as we made our way forward.

"Do you think they all realize what a slut they have here?" I asked. Again the groan. I was getting to like that low, deep groan.

"I need to pay," I said when I reached the front desk.

"One Brazilian wax," the girl behind the desk said loudly as she took my money, causing Rachel to cringe.

I handed Rachel some money and said, "Go find Janice and give her this tip." I thought she would object, but she just went and found her. After she gave the money, I saw Janice pull her into a hug then give her a quick kiss on the lips.

When she returned, I escorted her out and we walked down the street.

"Where to next?" she asked.

"We're here," I said.

To be continued tomorrow ...

The favor, index:
Chapter 1:  The question
Chapter 2:  Jeff takes charge
Chapter 3: The preparation
Chapter 4: The corner

Pride 1

In this picture the artist made a self portrait


In almost every list, pride (Latin, superbia), or hubris (Greek), is considered the original and most serious of the seven deadly sins, and the source of the others. It is identified as believing that one is essentially better than others, failing to acknowledge the accomplishments of others, and excessive admiration of the personal self (especially holding self out of proper position toward God). Dante's definition was "love of self perverted to hatred and contempt for one's neighbour". In Jacob Bidermann's medieval miracle play, Cenodoxus, pride is the deadliest of all the sins and leads directly to the damnation of the titulary famed Parisian doctor.

In perhaps the best-known example, the story of Lucifer, pride (his desire to compete with God) was what caused his fall from Heaven, and his resultant transformation into Satan. In Dante's Divine Comedy, the penitents are burdened with stone slabs on their necks which force them to keep their heads bowed.

Friday, 21 November 2014

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Eldur og ís

Music coming from the soul, is really soul music, not the weak tea that is now called Soul. Now, This, This is Soul.

Within Temptation - Fire and Ice

Every word you're saying is a lie
Run away my dear
But every sign will say your heart is deaf

Bury all the memories
Cover them with dirt
Where's the love we once had
Our destiny's unsure

Why can't you see what we had
Let the fire burn the ice
Where's the ove we once had
Is it all a lie

And I still wonder
Why our heaven has died
The skies are all falling
I'm breathing but why
In silence I hold on
To you and I

Closer to insanity
Buries me alive
Where's the life we once had
It cannot be denied

Why can't you see what we had
Let the fire burn the ice
Where's the love we once had
Is it all a lie

And I still wonder
Why our heaven has died
The skies are all falling
I'm breathing but why
In silence I hold on
To you and I

You run away you hide away
To the other side of your universe
Where you're safe from all that hunts you down
To the other side of your universe

And it feels too late so you're moving on
But can you find your way back home

And I still wonder
Why our heaven has died
The skies are all falling
I'm breathing but why
In silence I hold on
To you and I

Every word you're saying is a lie
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