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new blog post, 23 Mar 2025, Reijer Staats

Scribbles from Granada

Observing, reflecting, being moved, writing, and laughing at what appears on the page! Occasionally, the beautiful surroundings inspire me to write a few personal rhyming lines. Here, I'm pleased to share five scribbles from the past year.
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The photo shows a mural in Granada of Federico García Lorca, with his mouth covered by black tape and a defiant expression. He has black hair and intense eyes. The mural is located on a wall at the corner of a street in the Albaicín neighbourhood.

Power

We were craving some city vibes and inspiration. And a Moroccan pastela from Panadería María. So, Granada... vamos!

Under the fresh spring sun, a new mural of Lorca caught my eye. A poet and playwright, born in Granada, who used his words to highlight social issues. His voice was silenced, but his message lives on.

A scribble appeared on paper:

His eyes filled with resistance

And his words were silenced
Do we see a parallel?
That stretches from past to present

Moving away from demonising
To its polarity
Following a path of critical thinking
And heartfelt empathy
In the photo, I'm standing on the balcony with a coffee in hand and my face turned towards the sun. A dog sits on the sofa in front of me. I'm overlooking the residential area in Almuñécar, with the sea in the background.

Woke

Returning from holiday with flu and an ear infection, I read about the Spanish Civil War in the novel "Land of Echoes," and watch all the news on TV... and oh! What is happening in the world?

I wrote a rhyming verse about it:

A blocked nose, gaze turned inward

Fever cleared my mind...
From all the know-it-all nonsense
And the self-righteous clashes nearby

I yawn - a pop! - the pressure breaks
In the warmth of sunshine I soak
Two men holding hands along the shore
Glad to be back and awake
The photo shows a typical Andalusian double door in a soft bluish-grey colour, with a subtle door handle. Above the door is the number 23 in Arabic script, and next to the door hangs a slate plaque with its name.

I take it at my own pace

Healing, for me, is the interplay between mind, heart, and gut, where emotions hide behind a gate that haven't yet been fully felt. When you gently open the gate and allow the emotions to flow, space is created for softness.

After a conversation with a friend about losing my mother, I wrote this poem:

Eyes down towards my gut

Ay! The tension shows!
A stone of old emotions
In wonder I approach

A door – I open it wide
Something pushes through with force
It's quickly closed, but I know now:
What's hard will soften in time
A full moon rises as the sun sets simultaneously. Someone takes a photo from a high lifeguard chair, overlooking the sea and the coastal hills during the golden hour.

It's about the journey, not the destination

In our first year of emigration, I wrote about "the warmest welcoming smile..." From time to time, we still keep in touch by text. "You're in my heart," I read. And while watching the sunset, this poem came to me:

How are you doing?

My answer: I think I'm fine
I know something's missing
Not sure where to look this time

You'll find it, without a doubt!
The words wrap around me tightly
Feeling warm, I walk my path
All feels right! I see the light

Kiss from your sis

Every morning, I pause for a moment in the hallway by this photo of Meris, and this morning, a little poem came to mind.

Here it is:

Sometimes you perch upon my shoulder

And whisper softly in my ear
About to enjoy my breakfast
"Mmm, bro, I'd love to share!"

But soon our time comes to an end
I know you have to move on
You cast one last glance at me
And I catch your whispering song
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Reijer Staats & Johan Pastoor | +31(0)6 - 28 27 1492 | contact@villa-andalusia.com | www.onthaasten.es